Inferno
by Kimmeth
Summary: Agatha sets into motion her most awful plan yet, using magic so terrible the Witches' Guild dare not acknowledge its existence. Can the staff and pupils of Cackle's save their school once more? Rated M for description and themes. FINAL TWO CHAPTERS UP.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I own nada but the plot, and a very battered copy of Geothe's 'Faust'.

**Note: **Hello there! It's such a long time since I was treading the Worst Witch boards, let me tell you! This idea came to me almost fully formed. A few tweaks, a bit of research and tada! **Inferno** was born. Just a couple of pointers before I begin:

**1. **This takes place after the end of the third series, during Mildred's fourth (and in my timeline, final) year. (I know there is an ongoing debate over whether there are four or five years...) It continues on from the third series, so Mildred is head-girl and Jadu is deputy.

**2. **I have used some themes from Goethe's 'Faust' and Dante's 'Inferno', both are excellent pieces of classical literature should you wish to read them, but this fic is perfectly understandable without having done so.

**3.** I am using Miss Bat, not Miss Crotchet. Her reappearance will be explained fully in due course.

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**Inferno**

**One**

It was obviously a dream, thought Mildred. She was positive that she had never seen this place before in her waking life; the eerie gloom of the torch-lit cave with black stone walls was something that her overactive imagination could think up only in slumber. She moved forwards, unable to stop herself, the involuntary motion serving only to confirm her notion of a dream. Someone was speaking in a terrible voice, frightening and yet, at the same time, mesmerising, almost charismatic. It drew Mildred onwards, suddenly anxious to hear what was being said.

_...and in return, I receive a soul. Do we have an agreement? _

_Of course my Lord. _

Mildred squinted through her dismal surroundings to try and find the owners of the voices. The second tones had sounded familiar.

_You do realise of course, that there must be an assurance to seal the agreement. _

_I do my Lord. _

Mildred continued to move forwards, towards the source of the sound. She could see shapes materialising in the flickering firelight in front of her. They were indistinct, swathed in black.

_A single drop of blood, that's all it will take. Perfectly harmless, my dear. _

Mildred saw the flash of a silver blade, and she knew in her churning stomach what was coming next. The shapes had suddenly become clearer, and she could see that one figure was seated in an ornate throne, carved out of the same black rock as the cavern walls. Mildred peered at the one nearest to her, and reached out a hand to touch the stone before recoiling immediately. The wall was molten to the touch, scorching hot, and it melted into grotesque patterns and shapes beneath her fingers, running down the walls and pooling at her feet.

The seated figure facing her, cloaked completely in black, handed the knife to the other, also cloaked. This one was kneeling before the throne, head bowed and with its back to Mildred. She tried to close her eyes but she was unable, and she watched in silent horror as the kneeling figure cut a sharp nick in its left wrist, allowing ruby blood to well and fall to the floor. It burst into flame as it hit the ground, and for the briefest of moments, Mildred caught a glimpse of bright red eyes within the folds of the hood. She knew in a flash of icy terror what she had just seen. The darkness, the flames, the cryptic words... The scarlet eyes of the seated figure...Mildred could not withhold a scream any longer, although she knew that alerting the figures to her presence was the last thing that she should do. Her mouth was screaming but her mind was frantically reassuring her that everything was alright, that it was only a dream.

On hearing the sound, the two figures twisted towards her immediately. Mildred tried to turn, tried to run away, but she was rooted to the spot, as she so often was in nightmares. The horror, she then realised, was not over yet. The kneeling figure stood and began to move towards her, the hood falling away to reveal a terrible face.

Miss Cackle's eyes glowed a pulsing ruby as her face twisted into a snarl of pure evil...

_Mildred Hubble..._

And then suddenly there was a different voice, one that was not coming from her head-mistress's mouth, but one that was familiar none-the-less.

"Mildred Hubble!"

Mildred's eyes shot open and she sat bolt upright in bed, gasping for breath and feeling cold sweat pouring down her back and face. She took in her surroundings – bright, comforting moonlight from the open window, the familiar grey stone walls of her bedroom at Cackle's Academy and the concerned faces surrounding her.

"Oh Millie, I thought you'd never snap out of it!" Maud threw her arms around her friend and squeezed her tightly, despite the fact that her nightshirt was soaked with perspiration. Mildred took in the other occupants of the room over the top of her best friend's head. Enid and Jadu stood in one corner, their arms around each other, both mute with fear.

"You've been screaming almost non-stop for the last ten minutes." At the foot of her bed, Ruby's eyes were wide. "We couldn't wake you up. We had to get Miss Hardbroom... She's just gone to get you a potion; you woke up when she shouted at you."

"I knew the voice was familiar," Mildred muttered as Maud released her limpet-hold.

"Seriously Mil," Jadu whispered, "what were you dreaming about? You said something about..."

Before Jadu could finish, she was interrupted by another voice outside the door.

"Girls, for the last time, move along before I put you all in detention for the next month! There's nothing to see here!"

Mildred groaned. The head-girl having a hysterical nightmare was certainly going to be the main attraction of the night for the first and second years. They were only two months into the new year and already she was proving herself to be the most 'entertaining' head-girl that Cackle's had ever seen.

Mildred's bedroom door was flung open with some vehemence and Miss Hardbroom strode in.

"How are you, Mildred?" she asked through gritted teeth, unable to stop genuine concern just creeping through her hastily erected mask of exasperation and anger.

"I... I'm not sure." Mildred could not shake off the last vestiges of fear that had manifested themselves during her nightmare. "I mean, it was only a dream, wasn't it?"

Miss Hardbroom's lips pressed together in a thin line. She held out a small bottle.

"Drink this. It is a simple sedative, just to calm you down before you have a heart attack. The school has an infamous enough reputation as it is, we don't need a pupil dying of fright as well."

Mildred gulped down the potion in one. It tasted of vanilla, so sweet it was almost painful as it slipped down her throat. Immediately she felt herself calming, but she was still afraid by the lack of conformation from her form-mistress.

"It was just a dream, wasn't it Miss?"

"Hmmm." Miss Hardbroom ignored the question momentarily, staring out of the window as if lost in thought. "Let us hope so." She turned to the others in the room.

"I am sure Mildred will be perfectly alright now, if you would all like to return to your rooms."

The tone was non-negotiable: it was an order, not a suggestion. Mildred gave a wan smile to to her friends as they filed out of the room, each looking at her with a mixture of relief and uneasiness. Miss Hardbroom remained motionless, her attention now returned to the window.

"Miss..." Mildred began, but she was interrupted.

"Mildred, what happened in your nightmare? What did you see?"

The brusqueness of the question caught Mildred off guard, but it was not entirely unexpected. The deputy head was nothing if not to-the-point.

"It was Miss Cackle," she said eventually. "I saw her making... I saw her seal a pact.... I think she was... selling her soul..."

Miss Hardbroom's grip on the windowsill tightened perceptibly as Mildred whispered the final words.

"I do not think it was Miss Cackle that you saw, Mildred. I believe it was her sister."

"Agatha? Well, she does seem more like the type... But Miss Hardbroom, it was only a dream, wasn't it?"

Mildred was becoming more and more nervous by the second, especially when her teacher would not turn to face her.

"Mildred, you are a witch with a special talent; one of creating living works of art. There is magic in your very imagination, Mildred, something that is rare even for a witch. Dreams are the product of the unconscious imagination. Your dreams, Mildred, they are more vivid than they used to be, are they not?"

"Well yes, I suppose, over the past few months..." It was true. Ever since she had first discovered her talent, Mildred had found her dreams becoming more and more lifelike: the good ones even better, and the nightmares even more terrifying. She could not erase the image of her head-mistress's glowing eyes from her mind, even if she knew in hindsight that the figure was not really Miss Cackle, but her twin.

"Mildred, what I am trying to say, and failing to do so in a coherent manner, is that your imagination – whether waking or asleep – is in tune with magical occurrences in our world. And your dreams... well, there may just be elements of truth in them. The details are your own, the product of your own fancy, but the crux..."

Mildred's breath caught in her throat.

"So Agatha... She really has sold her soul?"

"I would think it highly likely, yes."

"What... what does that mean?"

"It means, Mildred, that she has ultimate power. The Witches' Guild refuses to acknowledge the existence of such Faustian pacts, to them the idea of selling one's soul is so repulsive, so unthinkable that they believe it simply cannot happen; they think it belongs in the world of literature, the product of the fevered imaginations of non-magicians. They do not believe that anyone would actually go through with such a terrible thing. But Agatha is not just anyone. If she has the services of the Devil under her command, then she completely overrides the Witches' Code, since there is no provision in it for such an occasion: all our laws and decrees will mean nothing to her. They will have no effect."

Miss Hardbroom looked down at the windowsill, and finally at her stricken pupil.

"It means we do not stand a chance when she decides to attack."

Mildred could hear her heart pounding in her ears.

"Is she going to attack?"

"That, I believe, is inevitable. The true question is when."

Mildred's voice was barely above a breath as she spoke again.

"When is she going to attack?"

Before Miss Hardbroom could reply, a terrible noise filled the air. It was the mewling of every cat and kitten in the school. Tabby jumped up onto the foot of Mildred's bed and crouched over her legs, back arched, hissing at the window where Miss Hardbroom stood, as still as stone. There was a scrabbling at the door, a feline growl and suddenly a black shape rushed in with a yowl, Morgana scrambling up her petrified owner's back to her shoulder, claws clicking the black silk of her dressing gown.

"And thus battle begins," Miss Hardbroom murmured, so nearly inaudible that Mildred was sure it had not been meant for her to hear. "The most loyal ally a witch has will spring to her immediate aid, knowing just how futile the gesture is." She reached up and stroked Morgana between the ears, her attention fully focussed on the changing light outside the window.

Mildred picked up Tabby and got out of bed, her legs shaking as she moved over to stand beside Miss Hardbroom. As she stared at the scene in front of her through the empty windowpane, she could see other pupils poking their heads out of the windows beneath her, and hear the murmurs of horrified awe and the frantic footsteps racing around the castle.

It was ice, as far as the eye could see, a vast expanse of ice stretching into utter and complete darkness. Agatha was standing in the centre, an evil smile on her face. Any traces of similarity to her sister had been blown away, there was now no confusion between the two.

"Come on Amelia," she called; her voice, though calm and musical almost, bellowed in the ears of girls and teachers alike. "Come out, come out, wherever you are."

Mildred turned to Miss Hardbroom, and on seeing the fear in her teacher's face, she knew that there was no hope.

" To answer your question, Mildred, I believe 'right now' would be an appropriate response..."

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**Note2: **Credit for the setting for Millie's nightmare goes to my mum, who, when she was ill with a fever of over 40 degrees, had a hallucination of a room with red hot melting walls...

What did you think? There's plenty more mystery and intrigue to come!


	2. Chapter 2

**Note: **Chapter two. Enjoy!

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**Inferno**

**Two**

Amelia could not believe it. If it was not for the very real feeling of dread in her heart and the very real pain of her fingernails cutting into her palms where her hands had curled into fists on hearing her sister's voice, she would have said that she was having a terrifying nightmare. Stepping out into the frozen wasteland to face Agatha was the last thing that she wanted to do, but protection of the girls and the school was paramount, and Amelia would do anything to keep them safe.

She knew where the castle had been transported to, for she was almost certain that was what had happened, and she knew from where Agatha had received the power to perform such a terrible transit. Amelia shook her head as she made her way through the corridors of the school and out into the courtyard, its open space surprisingly unaffected by the snowscape on the outside of the castle walls. She knew that Agatha was wicked, but she had always believed her to have some last shred of humanity somewhere in her. She had never entertained the notion that she could be pure, unadulterated evil. With a sigh, Amelia placed one hand on Walkers' Gate, praying fervently that this latest confrontation could end without bloodshed, but knowing deep within how unlikely that was. Another hand appeared on the heavy iron ring beside that she held, and Amelia turned to see her deputy standing beside her, her mouth firm and determined but her eyes genuinely frightened.

"Constance, you do not have to do this..." Amelia began, but Constance shook her head.

"You do not have to do this alone." She paused. "Mildred... she had a dream tonight. I should have warned you immediately."

"You weren't to know this would happen so soon. What did she see?"

Constance's face twitched into an involuntary grimace.

"What do you think?"

Amelia's fears were confirmed. Her sister had done what witches all over the world said could never be done. She had crossed the final boundary that prevented civilised witches from becoming the creatures of the nightmares of non-magicians.

"I take it that there will be no persuading you to return to the school?" she asked.

"Never." Constance smiled grimly. "We may as well outnumber her whilst we can."

"Come on Amelia!" Agatha's voice from beyond the gates grated on Amelia's ears. "I'm waiting, and my patience is wearing thin."

Together they opened the gates and stepped onto the icy plain. The temperature drop hit suddenly, as if they had walked into the cold store next to the kitchen.

"Ah, Amelia!" Agatha sounded truly pleased to see her sister again after over two years without contact. "And Constance as well. I might have known that you would tag along." She tilted her head on one side, observing headmistress and deputy thoughtfully as they continued to traverse the slippery field towards her. "I have noticed, over the many, many years, that you do seem to come as a pair. It is most interesting. I wonder, Amelia, who is really in charge of Cackle's?"

Amelia's eyes narrowed. Constance was an excellent witch, more skilled than Amelia herself in some areas, but whilst she was tenacious to the point of bloody-mindedness, she respected Amelia's authority as head of the Academy without question.

Agatha mistakenly took her silence to be a confirmation.

"I thought so. Perhaps I should send you back, Amelia, superfluous as you are." She lifted an arm, beginning to mutter an incantation.

"Oh no you don't!"

"No, Constance!" Amelia began, terrified of the consequences of initiating combat when they were still unsure as to the extent of Agatha's new power, but it was too late. Constance had raised her hands and sent a bolt of glistening scarlet towards their adversary. A wall of flame sprung up before it could connect, bouncing the attack back with double the force. The blast hit Constance's hands and sent her flying backwards, skidding across the perfectly smooth ice before she came to a stop just in front of the castle walls.

"Constance!" Amelia ran over, slipping and sliding on the veritable rink beneath her feet and momentarily ignoring the possible dangers of turning her back on Agatha. "Are you alright?"

Constance sat up with a groan, shaking her head groggily from the impact.

"I..." She held up her right hand, and Amelia was certain that the entire school, horror-struck spectators as they were, gasped in unison. Constance's casting fingers had been burned away, tendrils of black smoke still whispering from where her index and little finger had been only moments before.

"Your fingers..." Amelia breathed. "Your _magic_..."

Constance was silent, staring in horror at her injured hand. She kept her left one beneath her on the ice, not wanting to see if it had suffered the same damage. She flexed her remaining fingers, and Amelia could see the pain it caused her to move them.

"Oh dear." Agatha's voice was conversational, as if she was merely remarking upon the weather. "It appears that your first combatant has suffered a rather debilitating loss." She turned her head on one side again, contemplative, almost concerned. "That really does tip the balance in my favour. But, seeing as though I already have the upper hand..." she looked around her icy fortress "... perhaps it would be sporting to give you another chance."

She blinked her scarlet eyes once, slowly, and Constance screamed as bright, flickering flames engulfed her hands for a few seconds. As they died, Amelia could see something happening. White shards were protruding in place of her missing fingers. The bones were regrowing. Amelia felt a wave of nausea overtake her and clasped a hand over her mouth as tissues and blood vessels began to reform, but she could not look away. Within a matter of seconds, Constance's hand was as it had been before.

"Now, you can't say I don't play fairly," said Agatha sweetly. "Since this first altercation has been cleared up, perhaps we could get straight to the business at hand. I am a busy woman on a tight schedule after all."

Amelia ignored her, helping Constance to her feet. Her deputy flexed her fingers again and shot a few harmless sparks, testing her magic. It was still there, unharmed from her ordeal. They turned to face Agatha fully. She smiled, a grotesque smile which showed far too many teeth, and she spread her arms in a theatrical gesture.

"Welcome to the ninth circle," she said. "You remember Granny Cackle's illustrated copy of Dante's Inferno? Remarkably accurate, wasn't it? Here we are, in the flesh. The ninth circle of Hell, reserved for those who betray their families. Perfect for you, Amelia, cheating me out of my rightful inheritance. But still, as fitting as the setting is, perhaps a more neutral ground for discussing my terms, don't you think?"

The ice seemed to melt away, leaving them in the woods outside the castle, everything where it should have been.

"I hoped you enjoyed your little taste of what is to come there, Amelia. Or at least, what is to come in two days if you do not surrender the school over to my control."

"What?" gasped Amelia, her voice hoarse with horror.

"You have two days to surrender all your claims to Cackle's Academy over to me, its rightful owner, or I will send it straight back down to the little wasteland that we have just experienced." Her voice lost its sing-song tone and her expression hardened, the stark moonlight making the planes of her face seem even more inhuman. "You have two days before I drag you down into the ninth circle where you belong, for betraying me, cheating me!"

"I have never betrayed you! The Academy is mine, it is stated in black and white in Granny Cackle's Will!"

"Ha! Words on paper can lie just as much as words from your mouth, Amelia." Above them the clock struck midnight, and twelve chimes rang through the still night air.

"Happy Tuesday." The honeyed notes returned to Agatha's voice. "I'll see you with your decision at Wednesday midnight. Oh, and you might be wondering how come I can transport your castle into the depths of Hell, no? Well, shall we say that I traded in my usual co-conspirators for someone a little more... powerful. Amazing, how it only takes a drop of blood to have the services of the Devil himself on tap."

"And I thought you could sink no lower," breathed Amelia. Although she had realised that her sister had sold her soul, it was still shocking to hear it confirmed from her own lips. "You would honestly trade eternal damnation for the chance to run the school?"

"Oh Amelia, you never could see the bigger picture. That was always one of your biggest weaknesses. That and your never failing _compassion_. Ugh." Agatha shuddered momentarily before composing herself. "But I too have compassion. I am not totally possessed. In fact, I will even go so far as to allow you to evacuate two-thirds of the population of the school, as long as you do so within the next hour. And I daresay I should give your non-magical staff the option of leaving as well, useless as they are in the grand scheme of things." Agatha paused. "After the hour of course, I will need a little insurance against any funny business."

"What sort of insurance?" asked Constance, choked.

"Oh, you'll know." Agatha smiled cruelly. "And remember I'll be watching, so I'll know if you attempt to get everyone out now. Just two thirds. Sixty-six point six per cent. How deliciously ironic." Agatha looked at her watch. "Well, I'll leave you now. After all, time is ticking. Fifty-nine minutes and counting, Amelia my dear. I shall see you two days from now to hear your decision."

A circle of flames sprung up around Agatha and closed in, evaporating her in a puff of purple smoke. Amelia and Constance were left staring at the empty forest, watching the first November frost beginning to form. For a brief moment they were reminded of the Hell that awaited them if they decided to stand up to Agatha. Amelia crumpled, falling to her knees. Constance caught her before she hit the ground, pulling her upright once more and leading her back towards Walkers' Gate.

"Oh Constance," cried Amelia, burying her face in her freezing hands as they walked. "What are we going to do?"

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**Note2: **What are they going to do indeed? Find out next chapter...

Anybody fancy leaving a review?


	3. Chapter 3

**Note: **Here we are! The pace gets a little slower from here, but hopefully it should still keep you intrigued...  


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**Inferno**

**Three**

Amelia was grateful that her deputy headmistress was completely and utterly unfazed by anything. The school had been transported to Hell, she'd suffered a terrible injury and seen it heal before her eyes, but by the time they had reached the relative safety of Cackle's stone walls, Constance was already forming a plan of action.

"If Agatha is going to allow us to get some of the school to safety, no matter how many or how few, we should take that chance," she muttered, half to herself and half to her superior. "The school's population is fifty-four: four classes of twelve pupils each makes forty-eight, plus four teachers and two other staff members, fifty-four. Two thirds of fifty-four is thirty-six, which is the entire first, second and third years, and then Imogen, Mrs Tapioca and Mr Blossom should they wish to leave. Do you agree, Headmistress?"

"Yes, certainly." Even if they could not spare all the girls, they could at least save the youngest. She glanced down at Constance's hands as she prepared to cast a spell, red as they were with cold from the frosty outdoors. "Constance, how are your fingers?"

"Painful," her deputy replied tersely. "But they were still there the last time I checked. Now, we have very little time in which to organise a full scale evacuation, shall we get on?"

"Of course." Amelia looked at Constance's hands again as she murmured her incantation. "As long as you keep checking," she murmured under her breath, drowned out by Constance's voice ringing through the school. Had the circumstances been less dire, Amelia would have contemplated the fact that Constance really didn't need an amplification spell to make herself heard throughout the entire building, but at that moment, she was too scared to think of anything except the agonising decision that awaited her.

"Girls, this is an emergency, please get dressed and assemble in the great hall as quickly as possible!" roared Constance.

"What's happening?" asked Imogen, sprinting through the wave of girls stampeding back to their own bedrooms towards the senior staff. "What are we doing?"

"We are evacuating the first three years," explained Amelia, finding her tongue at last. "I take it you heard our conversation with Agatha?"

"I think you would be hard pushed to find a person in the castle who didn't, Miss Cackle." Imogen eyed Constance's fingers and opened her mouth to ask after their wellbeing but Amelia shook her head quickly and began speaking again before Imogen could voice her question.

"I think we need an urgent staff meeting. Imogen, if you could find Frank Blossom; Constance, fetch Mrs Tapioca. I will see to Davina."

Imogen smiled weakly and ran off in the direction she had just come in, the ends of her dressing gown tie flapping wildly behind her. Amelia turned to the figure at her left but Constance had already disappeared, her personal mode of transport much more efficacious than that of her colleagues. Amelia began to make her way quickly through the school towards the staff room, knowing exactly where their highly strung chanting teacher could be found. Since Davina had returned to them after only a year of her retirement, citing loneliness and a great deal of new inspiration she wanted to test out on the girls, she had been remarkably good about only retreating into her favoured hiding place of previous years in times of extreme provocation. This, Amelia thought grimly, was one such situation to qualify.

"Davina!" she called as she entered. "Davina, are you in here?"

There was a whimpering sound from the stationery cupboard, and Amelia could hear exercise books and pencils falling to the ground as their human neighbour shook with fear in her cramped surroundings. Amelia strode over and pulled the doors open. Davina flew out, collapsing against the headmistress in floods of hysterical tears.

"There there," she soothed, stroking the bird-like woman's frizzy mane of crimped hair. "We'll get through this."

"But what are you going to do Amelia?" Davina bawled, the sound muffled slightly by Amelia's cardigan. "What choice do you have?"

What choice indeed. Amelia had already made her decision. She would have to surrender the school, and accept whatever consequences might come her way as a result. She owed a duty to her pupils, she could not decide their fates for them in this way. Her own destiny was of little consequence, but she could not doom her girls. Mind you, Amelia thought darkly as she continued to murmur meaningless words of comfort to her old friend, what had Agatha said about the bigger picture? It was still perfectly plausible that by saving the school from damnation, by handing it over to the supposedly less terrible keeper, she would condemn it to even greater tortures. Either way she chose, Cackle's would never again be the sanctuary she had strived to make it: not only a school but also a home, where girls could feel safe and protected.

"We still have two days," said Amelia. "Much can change in two days." The optimism in her voice was horribly false, and she knew that it would convince no one, least of all her sensitive friend. Amelia lamented her position as the ultimate authority, the one to make all the decisions, the one to offer the shoulder to cry on. She wanted desperately for someone to comfort her at that moment, but she had to remain strong, for Davina, for the girls. She was a headmistress, and she had long since accepted the few inconveniences and the many joys that came with her post. She could not, _would not_, fail in her vocation now.

With determination and confidence renewed, Amelia moved Davina over to a chair as she heard the rest of her staff enter.

"I won't waste time explaining why we're here," Amelia began, looking into the confused and scared eyes of each of her colleagues in turn. "Imogen, Frank, Maria, you heard what Agatha said. You are free to leave the castle if you wish, I would never make you stay in such a dangerous position, but I don't presume to tell you what you should do. The choice is yours, but it must be made quickly."

"I'm staying." Imogen was resolute. "I'm staying, even if I am useless in the greater scheme of things. The school is my home, it's a part of me, I can't leave it in its hour of need."

Constance opened her mouth to protest, and although Amelia knew that she meant well, she held up a hand to stop her.

"Thank you Imogen. Your solidarity is both admirable and appreciated. Maria? Frank?"

Mrs Tapioca was murmuring to herself in Italian, and Amelia now saw that she was fingering an old silver rosary. Presently she stopped.

"I stay here. You still need-a to eat, even if..." she tailed off, not wanting to give voice to the terrible situation they had found themselves in. "No, I stay." She pushed her chin, still quivering with fear, up in defiance, daring someone to contradict her decision.

Amelia nodded.

"Thank you. Frank?"

"If Maria's staying, then so am I." The handyman was trembling like a leaf, but his voice was wholly determined.

"No Franco, don't be a hero!" Mrs Tapioca wailed.

"No Maria, let me say my piece." He looked down at the diminutive woman next to him. "I know it's a bit late, but better late than never, eh? I know we're all doomed, but I want you to know that there's no-one I'd rather be doomed with than you, lass."

"Oh, Franco!"

Mrs Tapioca threw her arms around Mr Blossom with a force that made him stagger backwards a few steps. No-one spoke for a few moments, watching the aftermath of this declaration with varied expressions until Constance cleared her throat.

"I believe from the noise in the corridors that the girls are assembling, we should explain the plan to them."

The others nodded their agreement, and by mutual yet silent consent, they let Amelia lead the way out of the staffroom and towards the great hall.

The girls, now fully dressed in their black and grey uniforms, were milling around in small groups, nervous chatter being exchanged in whispered voices. Silence blanketed the hall as soon as the teachers entered, and Amelia was certain that only her deputy could cut such an awe-inspiring figure whilst wearing her nightclothes.

"Girls, please assemble in your classes so that we can check everyone is present," Amelia began. She felt no need to shout, the girls were too scared to think of rabble-rousing in the uncertain situation. They filed into lines quietly, and a quick count and re-count showed that none were missing. Amelia took a deep breath and continued.

"As you know, the school is hanging in an extremely dangerous balance at the moment. A sizeable proportion of the school has been allowed to leave, which equates to the first three years. If you would all please pack a few essentials, fetch your cat baskets and broomsticks and assemble in the courtyard, we shall organise the evacuation process from there. Please be as quick as possible. Fourth years, if you could please give any help the others may need." Amelia paused. "I am so sorry that it has to be this way."

The girls began to file quickly out of the hall, the fourth years saying their goodbyes to their younger friends. At last only a handful of pupils remained, and Amelia was the sole member of staff left, her fellow teachers having gone to organise the girls flying out, and Mrs Tapioca and Mr Blossom having returned to the kitchens, the former muttering something about hot chocolate to calm everyone's nerves.

A yellow-belted third year strode towards her headmistress, and it only took a second for Amelia to recognise who it was.

"Sybil, you should be..."

"I know what I should be doing." Sybil's bottom lip quivered as she tried valiantly to keep it together. "If Ethel has to stay then I want to stay too."

"Sybil!" Ethel was running up the hall after her sister. "Don't be an idiot Sybil!"

Her sister ignored her momentarily.

"We don't always see eye to eye, but she's still my sister."

"Sybil Hallow, go and get your broomstick right now!" screamed Ethel. Sybil finally turned to face her, and Ethel softened. "It'll be alright, Sybil. I'll be fine. And since one of us has got the chance to get out, it makes no sense for both of us to be... for both of us to stay, I mean."

"But..."

Neither sister said anything more as they pulled each other into a tight embrace. Though they had fought like cats on occasion during their three years together at the school, Amelia reflected, blood really was thicker than water. Both girls were weeping as they broke apart.

"Sybil. Broomstick." Ethel sniffed, but her sibling still did not move.

"Sybil," Amelia coaxed.

Finally Sybil nodded and ran to fetch her cloak and cat before heading out to the courtyard. Amelia placed a hand on Ethel's arm.

"We will get through this, Ethel," she said, her voice sounding much more confident that she felt. "We will find a way out of this mess."

Ethel nodded, but they both knew that the chances were so very slim.

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**Note2: **Will they find a way round Agatha's terrible ultimatum? What was the 'insurance' she spoke of last chapter? All will be revealed soon....

*Kimmeth points to the little green button with a sign saying 'press me'...*


	4. Chapter 4

**Note: **Here we are folks! It just keeps coming! I really like writing this, so it's being updated like lightening

Big thanks to my regular reviewers: NCD, Rainbow Aquila, Sammy1257 and The Half Cast Mourne Posh Girl. You're keeping me on my toes guys!

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**Inferno**

**Four**

The entire fourth year of Cackle's Academy, accompanied by the full quota of staff, stood in the courtyard as they watched the final second year student fly safely away from the towers into the night. They had managed to get everyone out with ten minutes to spare, and now they were all standing in silence, watching and waiting for Agatha's 'insurance' to take effect.

Mildred didn't really know what they were looking for. She guessed that it would be a spell of some sort, but she wasn't sure, and there was something else clawing at the back of her mind, something else in Agatha's words that had particularly struck her as she had listened, horror-struck, to her ultimatum. Something was wrong; something was missing, the logical progression of events was disrupted somewhere along the line. Agatha had made an agreement, she had gained truly satanic powers, and she had given Amelia two days to make her decision. Something about her course of action simply didn't add up, and Mildred couldn't work out what it was. She stayed staring at the tower with her classmates, but her eyes were unseeing. She only realised that the scene had changed when Maud's scared gasps by her side finally alerted her attention.

It was dark, pitch black, as if all the stars had gone out at once. The only light came from the meagre candles at the windows of the school, most burning dangerously low.

"This must be it," said Maud. "This must be her insurance. But what is it?"

"The Alchemist's Shield," said Miss Hardbroom. "An intensely powerful spell that conjures a protective field. It blocks magic, it blocks people, and I think it is now safe to say that it blocks light as well. In short, it creates a perfect, unbreakable cocoon for those within its protection."

"What about air?" asked Ruby, trembling. "Are we going to run out of air?"

A muted scream of terror ran around the gathered staff and pupils alike, the most passionate cry coming from Miss Bat.

"We're all going to die!" she shrieked. "We're going to run out of air! She's going to starve us out! She's going to..."

"Davina. Davina!"

There was silence once more under Miss Hardbroom's stern tones. She muttered an incantation and suddenly everyone found themselves wielding a candle. The flickering orange light cast strange shadows over the terrified faces, serving only to add to the unease.

"The Alchemist's Shield is meant first and foremost for keeping oneself and others alive in the heat of a pitched magical battle," the deputy headmistress continued, seemingly unperturbed by the eerie light or the interruption. "It would not be very effective in that aim if the witch it was protecting was slowly suffocating under it, would it? We have plenty of air, Ruby, Miss Bat, we are not going to die in such an ignominious fashion."

"I don't understand," said Jadu. "Why would Agatha want to protect us?"

"She isn't trying to protect us," said Mildred, and suddenly the puzzle in her mind began to piece itself together. "The Shield is impenetrable. This is her insurance – she wants to make certain that we don't try to get out. In effect, she's locked us in."

"I think Mildred has hit the nail on the head, so to speak," said Miss Cackle with a sigh. "We cannot get out, and nothing else can come in."She paused, still deep in contemplation, before seeming to come to herself and taking charge, the calm leader of the school. "Now, I see no point in standing out here in the dark. I highly doubt that anyone is going to be able to get back to sleep so I advise everyone to return inside where perhaps we can attempt to think rationally over cocoa and biscuits. Ladies, Mr Blossom," she added, turning to her staff, "perhaps you would like to get dressed now."

Dire as their situation obviously was, Mildred could not help but give a small giggle. Maud looked at her as if she had grown a second head, but she ignored it, having been completely oblivious to the fact that the teachers were still in their night attire whilst the school was creeping along towards its inevitable fate...

It hit then, the realisation of what was wrong with the situation; the one missing piece that didn't make sense suddenly revealed itself.

"Miss Cackle!" she called after her headmistress, barely daring to hope that she may just have found a way out, a way around the situation. Miss Cackle obediently stopped and turned back towards her head-girl, listening attentively. "It doesn't make sense, Agatha doing what she is. If she wants the school so much, and since she obviously has the power to take it by force, then why doesn't she? Why has she given you two days to make a decision which, in any case, she doesn't need? If she wants the school she can take it, and if she wants to drag us to Hell..." Mildred paused, the calm with which she had previously spoken slipping away rapidly as she caught up to Miss Cackle and walked alongside her. "Well, we know she can do that too."

"You're quite right, Mildred, it is a little odd why she should delay the unavoidable, especially since she is the one with the power, as you have rightly assumed."

"Well, I've had an idea."

By this time they were inside the school, and moving unconsciously towards the headmistress's office. It was not much lighter within the building than on the outside, and Mildred had to force herself to continue in coherent sentences, jumping at the shadows that should have been, after three and a half years at the school, familar.

"What if this is more than an ultimatum? What if it's a challenge?"

Miss Cackle paused.

"How do you mean, Mildred?"

"What if the inevitable outcome isn't quite so inevitable? What if there's a way around this? What if there's a third option, and Agatha is challenging us to find it? She's given us two days to try and get out of here, we just need to work out how."

"It's a good idea Mildred, I just don't see how it could work in theory – if Agatha knows that there is a third path, then why would she run the risk of us finding it?"

Mildred's shoulders sank. This had not featured in her plans. Miss Cackle placed a comforting hand on her arm.

"We'll see, Mildred, we'll see."

"Maybe she doesn't think we can find a way, maybe it's so obscure, she's so certain we won't find it, that she's given us the chance but she doesn't think we'll succeed."

Miss Cackle's sympathetic smile became an expression of wonder.

"I think you may just have a point there, Mildred. That sounds much more like Agatha – so arrogantly assured of her own victory... Quickly, get everyone into the library, there's no time to lose! We need to scour every book we can find, every possible scrap of information."

Mildred smiled, her first genuine smile since waking from the terrible nightmare that had been the catalyst to their awful circumstances, and ran off to gather the rest of her class from the kitchens and herd them into the library.

She was halfway down the stairs towards the dungeons when she heard an ear-splitting screech from the main entrance way. It sounded remarkably like Miss Bat. Mildred paused for a moment, and then began to run in the opposite direction, towards the source of the sound. She found the diminutive chanting teacher curled in a ball in the main entrance hall, sobbing hysterically.

"Miss Bat, whatever is the matter?" she said, helping her to her feet again.

"We're all going to die!" she wailed. "We're under attack!"

"It's ok Miss Bat, it's alright, we're going to find a way out, don't worry," Mildred turned to see her friends and classmates running up the steps from the kitchen, startled by the noise.

"No," shrieked Miss Bat. "The lights! There!"

Mildred looked, and ice flooded through her veins as she saw two pulsing balls of light, one white, one green, hovering by the doors, emitting showers of sparks and clashing sounds as they attempted to come towards the girls.

"What's happening?" asked Miss Hardbroom, arriving on the scene at the top of the main staircase, looking as formidable as she always did.

"It appears that something is trying to break through the Shield," said Miss Cackle, also alerted by Miss Bat's cry.

"It's Agatha!" screamed Miss Bat.

"Why would Agatha want to break through her own spell?" asked Ethel, taking a deep breath as she tried to rationalise the situation in her own head. "Surely if she wanted to get in she would just lift it?"

"That is quite true, Ethel," said Miss Hardbroom. "But if it is not Agatha, what in the world is it?" She raised her hands to cast a spell towards their aggressors, but Miss Cackle stopped her.

"Remember the last time, Constance," she warned darkly

"Wait," said Mildred. She had been watching the glowing orbs, observing the ways they moved. "What do those lights remind you of?"

She looked around for the support of the others, but they simply shook their heads, edging away from the latest frightening occurrence in the altogether terrifying night.

"The wizards' staffs!"

"Of course!" said Miss Cackle. "They've come to help, but now they can't get in!"

"Why have the wizards come to help?" asked Miss Hardbroom, her eyes narrowing.

"I sent the SOS signal out as soon as Agatha first appeared," said Miss Cackle. "In all the drama that followed it completely slipped my mind. I sent an emergency spell, which finds the nearest witch or wizard and alerts them. It must have found the wizards and brought them here."

Miss Cackle stepped forward.

"Chief Wizard? Mr Rowan-Webb?"

"They won't be able to hear you, Miss," said Ethel. "The Shield, won't it..."

"Miss Cackle?"

Faint and slightly muffled, the voice of Chief Wizard Hellibore seemed to come through the main doors.

"Chief Wizard! We are under an Alchemist's Shield, you can't come in."

"Well lift it then!" said the exasperated voice of Algernon Rowan-Webb.

"We can't lift it. We weren't the ones to cast it," sighed Miss Cackle.

"Unless..."

Miss Cackle turned to Miss Hardbroom, who hurried down the stairs.

"A person under a Shield may lift it for a few moments to allow others to come under its protection, even if they did not cast it. It is just... No, that is not important. Stand back."

Miss Hardbroom raised her casting fingers and began to murmur a spell.

There was a blinding flash and suddenly the doors flew open. The wizards appeared stunned by the light for a few moments before coming to their senses and hurrying into the main hall. Immediately Miss Hardbroom stopped her muttering, staggering backwards and leaning against the staircase.

"Constance?" asked Miss Bat nervously.

"When the Shield is lifted, the person who is lifting it must take the weight instead," she panted. "A Shield of this size, covering the entire castle... well, it is rather heavy."

"Miss Cackle," said the Chief Wizard, dusting himself down. "What brings you into this terrible situation, if I may ask what we are up against?"

Miss Cackle sighed, and Mildred could see the desperation in her face.

"Perhaps we would be better disposed to have this conversation in my office," she said. "I think you are going to appreciate sitting down for this tale..."

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**Note2:** Is Millie's theory right? Will they be able to break through Agatha's Shield once and for all? Will the wizards be able to help? All will be revealed soon enough....

*Kimmeth points to the little green button saying 'review' and does puppydog eyes...*


	5. Chapter 5

**Note: **Sorry for the slightly longer than usual wait, I had a bit of a case of writer's block. I knew what I wanted to write, I just didn't have the words right... Anyway, please enjoy!  
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**Inferno**

**Five**

"This is hopeless!"

Maud slammed the book she was looking through shut with a deafening thud and buried her head in her hands.

"Oh Maud," Enid began, leaving her own book and putting her arms around her friend. "It'll be alright."

"No it won't!" Maud yelled. "We're all trying desperately to find a way to defeat a demon, but honestly, do you actually think we'll manage it?"

"Yes," said Enid bluntly. "I think we will. We've got to stay positive. If you're going to give up now, you might as well walk out the front door and straight into Agatha's clutches."

"Well, apart from the fact that we can't actually get out," observed Ruby dryly. She had recovered from her earlier panic about being unable to breathe, and had quietly accepted their situation in her usual, easy-going manner.

"Ruby, that really isn't helping," said Enid. Ruby shrugged.

"Just trying to lighten the mood."

Maud stood suddenly, shrugging off Enid's arms and walking purposefully through the library to the darkest corner, where most of the younger students feared to tread. Fenella and Grizelda's favourite corner. She looked up and down the shelves, peering through the gloom until she saw the book she wanted, on the top shelf.

_The Illustrated Dante's Inferno_.

Maud went to cast a summoning spell, but her hands were shaking too much, and she didn't trust herself. Instead, she carefully placed a foot on the bottom shelf and began to climb up, ignoring the creaking of the antique wood beneath her weight.

"Maud, what are you doing?" Enid asked, following her over from the large table in the centre of the room. When she saw what Maud was undertaking, she gave an involuntary gasp. "Maud! You'll break your neck! Let me get it."

Enid cast the summoning spell and the book flew off the shelf into her hands, causing Maud to lose her balance as it whizzed past her ear on its unnatural journey. She wobbled precariously, halfway up the bookcase, and with a final, grating crack, the ancient, woodworm infested structure broke from its moorings on the wall and began to fall forwards. Maud realised what was happening and jumped down immediately, running to meet Enid at the end of the aisle before they both watched the bookcase fall gracefully in silent horror. _Dante's Inferno_ slipped from Enid's fingers and dropped onto her feet, but she didn't notice the weight of the heavy tome.

"What's the betting it'll set off a domino effect?" asked Drusilla, the others in the library having rushed to the source of the noise. Everyone was on edge, in no way surprising considering the events of the night so far, and the slightest sound was enough to set off a chain reaction of squeals and jumping that the girls never quite managed to recover from. Everyone's pulses were running permanently fast, and the adrenaline was pounding in full force.

No-one could dared to breath as they watched the bookcase fall towards its neighbour, its contents sliding free and hitting the floor with the thunderous regularity of hailstones on the slate roofs of the school. The two heavy timber structures made contact, and the second set of shelves rocked agonisingly slowly for a few moments before settling vertical once more. Books continued to drop intermittently from the angled shelves, each one causing the girls to flinch visibly.

"We'd better move," said Enid, looking at the devastation. "HB'll be along in a minute." She scraped her fringe back from her face and did her best impersonation of their potions teacher. "Even when your lives are in peril you must be SILENT in the library."

Despite everything, a peal of laughter rang through the room. Although none of the girls could be sure that Miss Hardbroom wouldn't appear, they were all almost convinced that she was far too busy with the wizards to investigate the hilarity coming from the library.

"Seriously though," said Ruby. "We probably should get back to the books. The super-demon-fighting spell isn't going to find itself."

The others mumbled their agreement and went back to their central table, Enid still mimicking their form-mistress. Maud picked up the leaden book that had been the cause of all the trouble and moved away in the other direction, looking through the pages, their hand drawn illustrations protected by leaves of a material so fine it could have been cobwebs. She turned the final page, and read the poetic words before gazing at the picture that accompanied them. Suddenly her heart skipped a beat, and Maud felt something that might have been a tiny sliver of hope.

Dante had survived the Inferno. He had walked through Hell and come out the other side. He had not been doomed. Even though it was only a story, it might just provide them with a sliver of hope.

Maybe, just maybe, they weren't doomed either.

Maud tucked the book under her arm and returned to her seat at the table before opening it again and studying the text carefully, looking for any nuances she could. She could feel the first vestiges of optimism surfacing. Perhaps, she reflected, Enid's positivity wasn't quite so misplaced after all.

XXX

You could, Mildred reflected, have heard a pin drop in the staff room. For five minutes after Miss Cackle had finished her tale of how the school had some to be in its precarious position, no-one spoke. No-one moved. They barely breathed. The two magicians who had ostensibly arrived to aid them looked at each other, aghast, disbelieving. Eventually, there was movement and the musical chink of china on china as the Chief Wizard put his cup of now-cold tea back on its saucer. He had not moved it to his lips since the headmistress had begun.

"Have you contacted the Witches' Guild?" he asked, although Mildred could tell from his tired eyes that he was not really expecting an affirmative answer.

"What good would that do?" Miss Hardbroom's voice was so incensed she almost spat the words. "They would refuse to believe it, say we were seeing things, an elaborate hoax."

"What Constance means to say is no, we have not attempted to speak to the Witches' Guild. It is far too late now, with the Shield in place, and in our hour of free communication, we were preoccupied with getting the girls to safety." Miss Cackle never forgot the importance of courtesy, even in an emergency.

"The Wizards' Council would be equally useless," muttered Rowan-Webb, taking a sip of his tea and politely hiding his grimace on finding it to be both undrinkably strong and freezing cold. Miss Bat had insisted on being placed in charge of refreshment, but her nerves had not fully calmed from her ordeal in the entrance hall. "I think we can safely say that we're on our own ladies, Egbert."

Presently Jadu caught Mildred's eye and glanced towards the door. As head-girl and deputy, they had been increasingly involved in the day-to-day workings of the school ever since they had returned for their fourth year, and this was one such occasion where Miss Cackle had felt justified in allowing them into the staffroom. Mildred was needed in any case to relay the scene from her sleeping imagination, a place she had not wanted to revisit, and she had been glad of Jadu's support as she told what she could, but she knew that her friend was uncomfortable with the direction that the conversation had taken and wanted to get out of the stifling room, far too small for all its present occupants, and spend some time with her oldest friends whilst she could. Mildred nodded and opened her mouth to speak, although she wasn't quite sure as yet of what she was going to say. She was saved the inconvenience of having to think by Miss Hardbroom.

"Headmistress, perhaps the presence of these two pupils, senior members of the school as they are, would be more productive elsewhere in the castle," she said pointedly.

"Oh, yes, of course." Miss Cackle blinked at the two girls, slightly confused. She had obviously forgotten that they were there. "Run along Mildred, Jadu, see how the others are getting on."

Jadu needed no more prompting, and she and Mildred gratefully escaped from the uncomfortable warmth of the staffroom produced by too many bodies into the unusually welcome cold of the corridors.

"How did the wizards take the news?"

Mildred whirled round at the voice before recognising Maud and Enid a little way along from them.

"Very well, I think, all circumstances considered. What are you doing out here?"

Enid grinned.

"We've exhausted all the books in the library. We decided we'd look somewhere a little more interesting."

"Enid, in the three years I have known you, that has never, ever led to a good thing," said Jadu. "What did you have in mind?"

"Miss Cackle's office," said Maud.

"Oh no... Not the Mytheocopia again," Jadu warned.

"No no, honestly, you've got no imagination." Enid was by this point leading the way towards Miss Cackle's office, the others following her unconsciously. "Miss Cackle keeps all sorts of dangerous and mysterious books in her office, not just the Mytheocopia. Besides, I personally would rather take the frozen wastelands than be put to sleep for a thousand years by that old crone again." She shuddered at the memory. "Anyway, Maud's working out a backup plan."

"You are? What is it?" asked Mildred, eager for any advance in knowledge that could give her a sliver more hope. Whilst she had established that there may be a chance, no-one knew what that chance might be, and no-one had the faintest idea where to look for it.

"Well..." Maud shifted uncomfortably. "I'm looking for a map."

"A map?"

"A map out of Hell. Just in case." She shook her head. "I don't know whether it'll work, so I wasn't going to make a big fuss of it. Anyway, I haven't found one yet. I've been looking at Granny Cackle's illustrated Dante, but it's quite vague. I don't think that when he wrote it he was counting on anyone actually using it as a reference work."

Maud's speech drew to a natural conclusion as they stopped outside their chosen destination, and Mildred knew better than to press the point. Maud was doing her best, but had never been the most optimistic of people when compared to Enid and Ruby.

Enid muttered the unlocking spell and they slipped into the room, not bothering to check if someone could see them. With the circumstances what they were, the girls felt they had a certain immunity to expulsion. If this brief occasion of rule-breaking found them the enchantment they needed, then they were sure that they would be forgiven.

"Here we are." Enid's voice was muffled slightly by the desk before she emerged, holding up a heavy volume in each hand with an air of triumph. "These must be something good."

Mildred looked at the titles. They were written in what looked to be Latin, but she couldn't be sure. She took the book that Enid offered her and blew the dust off it before opening the first page. It was indeed a latin title, but transcribed into English below in elegant script.

_The Sources of Sorcery_, the page read. _The Fountain of all Magic, and those who channel it. _

Unusual, she thought, but not unpromising. The others were occupied in finding their own texts, pawing through Miss Cackle's private collection with interest and exclamations of wonder. Mildred began to peruse, skimming over the tightly packed words until something arrested her attention.

_So powerful they could defeat even the Devil himself. _

Mildred did a double-take but no, she had read correctly. She scrutinised the page, and realisation hit her with an almost tangible force. She had found it. She had found what they were looking for. She had found their way out.

"I've got it!" she screamed. "I've got it!"

"What is it?" the others asked, moving to crowd her, but Mildred was already out of the door, running back towards the room she had vacated only a few minutes before.

"Miss Cackle, I've got it! I know what we need!"

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**Note2: Dun dun dun! Next time on Inferno: We learn something about magic that we never knew before. We learn something about Cackle's library that we never knew before. We learn something about Hellibore that we REALLY never knew before...**

***Kimmeth retrieves her pointing stick from the back of the sofa and indicates the little green review button.*  
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	6. Chapter 6

**Note: **Well, here we are - mystery, intrigue and a whole lot more... By the way, **dates **are involved in this chapter. I am taking **Inferno** to be set in November 2009 - IE the present day. I know WW was nineties set, but I don't get on well trying to transpose things backwards, so I have moved it to the present for my own peace of mind.

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**Inferno**

**Six**

Mildred burst into the staffroom without so much as a pre-emptory knock.

"Miss Cackle, I've found it! I've found it! Our chance!"

"Yes Mildred, we have been listening to your shrieks of delight all the way down the hall." Miss Hardbroom looked at her pointedly. "Well? What is it?"

Mildred hefted the heavy book that had been the source of her happiness onto the staffroom table, ignoring the protests of the wood. She pulled her finger down the page until she found the heading that she was looking for.

_The Liaison._

"The Liaison," she read aloud, "is a magician with unfathomable powers of sorcery. This extraordinary power comes from having the blood of not one but two magicians in their veins, having inherited the skills of sorcery from both mother and father. The child of a witch and a wizard together has power increased fourfold: the power of one multiplied by that of the other. Their ability is unequalled, unrivalled. It is said that they are _so powerful they could defeat even the Devil himself._"

Mildred enunciated the last line carefully, her tone dropping down to one of near-reverence. She looked up from the page and surveyed the teachers and the wizards with eyes full of positive excitement, perturbed that they did not seem to share her enthusiasm.

"All we need to do is find a Liaison," she explained. "Someone whose mother is a witch and whose father is a wizard. Surely that can't be too hard. Most of the pupils at Cackle's are from witch backgrounds, there must be someone..." She tailed off on seeing her headmistress shaking her head sadly. "What is it?" she asked nervously.

"Mildred, you have done well in finding out what you have." Miss Cackle was choosing her words carefully. "But the undeniable fact of the matter is that..." She broke off, perhaps afraid of divulging something she felt was unsuitable for Mildred's ears and pondered a while before continuing in a different vein. "A Liaison would be a rare thing to find indeed, and we know that there isn't one in the fourth year, Mildred. Surely you would have noticed, someone with such awesome power?"

"But why?" Mildred faltered. "I don't see how...Why are they so rare? All it takes is the child of a witch and a wizard..."

"Romantic relationships between witches and wizards are virtually unheard of," interjected Miss Hardbroom bluntly. Miss Cackle nodded her assent with dismay, and the two wizards murmured their agreement as well.

"How come?"

Mildred turned to see her friends crowded in the open doorway, listening in on the conversation but none brave enough to actually set a foot into the room for fear of the recriminations.

"Oh do come in girls," said Miss Hardbroom wearily. "The circumstances we find ourselves in are hardly those that call for proper protocol."

The four girls outside squeezed into the already rather cramped staffroom and closed the door behind them. Enid repeated her question.

"How come relationships between witches and wizards are so rare?"

The staff and the visiting wizards looked pointedly at one another, deciding who should explain something that was obviously quite a delicate point to a group of students they still thought of as young, impressionable girls.

"The two cultures of magic are very different," explained Mr Rowan-Webb gently, volunteering himself for the task. "Wizards, for the most part... well, magic is their first and foremost priority. Female company comes somewhat lower on the list. We do tend to get rather carried away and forget the rest of the world, don't we Egbert?"

"Well, yes, occasionally." Mildred noticed the Chief Wizard shift uncomfortably in his seat.

"Power, or lack thereof, also plays a part," said Miss Cackle. "Magicians, that is to say both witches and wizards, are naturally attracted to the unknown. A person with no magical ability is infinitely more interesting than one with. When you can perform magic yourself, the novelty wears off somewhat."

Mildred sat down heavily in the chair she had been sitting in during Miss Cackle's explanation to the wizards not so very long ago. Just when she thought that there was a sliver of hope, something right under their noses that they had overlooked, something that could save them... It had all been dashed.

"There is also the incident involving the JHC forty years ago," Miss Hardbroom began under her breath, obviously not meaning for the girls to hear, but Miss Cackle cut her off sharply.

"Constance, they do not need to know about that."

"What is the JHC?" whispered Maud, but no-one answered her.

There was silence in the room once more.

"Well, I think it's worth a try." Everyone looked at Miss Drill in surprise. She had remained very quiet during all the previous discussions, her unfortunate position as a non-magician leaving her ill-equipped to participate. "These Liaisons may be rare, but that doesn't mean that they don't exist at all. You might find one has slipped through the net."

Mr Rowan-Webb shrugged.

"I would agree with that. Always reason to be optimistic. Headmistress?"

Miss Cackle remained in silent contemplation for several minutes, her fingers steepled over her teacup, deep in thought.

"I agree with you two, Algernon, Imogen. We have nothing to lose by seeing if a Liaison has 'slipped through the net' as you put it."

Mildred noticed the odd phraseology that they used. Slipped through the net? Were Liaisons under surveillance of some kind? Did it have anything to do with the mysterious JHC?

"That's all very well, Headmistress," Miss Hardbroom said, "but how do you propose we go about searching for a Liaison? We hardly have the birth certificates of every witch in the country to hand to check their parentages."

"Oh, that won't be necessary," said Miss Cackle. If Mildred wasn't very much mistaken, there was something of a twinkle in her eye. "I never thought I'd actually have opportunity to do this," she muttered to herself. "How ironic that it has arisen now."

"Miss Cackle, what on Earth are you talking about?" asked the Chief Wizard.

"You'll see soon enough. Follow me ladies, wizards."

The headmistress led the way out of the staffroom and along towards the library.

"Girls, may I suggest that you return to your valiant and valuable research," she said as they neared the room. "Since there is a high probability of us not finding what we are looking for."

The girls murmured their consent and the group entered the library again.

"What on Earth happened here?" barked Miss Hardbroom on seeing the fallen bookcase.

"It was, well, I..." Maud stammered.

"It doesn't matter," said Miss Cackle firmly. "In fact, it makes life a little easier."

She raised her arms and waved her hands in the direction of the back wall of the library, now bare thanks to the destroyed shelving. The incantation she was muttering was long and complicated, the incomprehensible words falling over themselves as they tripped off her tongue.

The gathered party gasped in unison at the change the wall undertook. The peeling, damp paint seemed to melt away into nothing, falling down the wall to reveal thousands of words in tiny white and silver script on a black background, working their way across the wall and stopping about a foot above the floor.

"This document, if you can call it that, what with it being written on a wall, is called the Heritage. These are the names and parentage of every witch born in this country in the last hundred years. It updates itself automatically whenever a witch is born," Miss Cackle breathed. "You will all find your names on there somewhere."

"Why... how... what is this doing on the back wall of the library?" asked Miss Hardbroom faintly.

"The Witches Guild," said Miss Cackle simply. "They needed a safe place to store the Heritage, and since Cackle's is a small school, away from prying eyes, they felt it would be the safest place for it. They pay us a modest sum to house it. So far they have not had any reason to look at it, and neither have I."

"So you're saying, that if there is a Liaison who could help us, they would be on here?" asked Mildred.

"Only if the Liaison is female," said Miss Cackle. "I am not sure if the wizards have a similar charter."

The Chief Wizard shook his head.

"I have never seen anything like this before."

Mildred took a step forward and looked at the list of names, some silver, some white. For each entry there was a date of birth, a name in silver and two further names; sometimes both were white, sometimes one was silver.

"The silver names are magicians," Miss Cackle explained. "The white are non-magical people."

Without fully realising what she was doing, Mildred scanned the list for her own date of birth, and found her name, both her parents in white script. She looked again at the entirety of the list. It would take hours to go through it all, days even.

"So, we're looking for an entry that's all in silver," said Enid.

"Presumably, yes," said Miss Cackle. "A child of two magical parents."

The gathered occupants of the school looked at the Heritage in awe, no-one moving to search its expanses for the name they were looking for.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Enid joined Mildred at the wall and glanced up and down. "We want someone who's still alive, obviously, I doubt they'd be much use dead..." Her eyes fixed firmly on a point half way up the wall. "There we are, start with the fifties. That should do it."

One by one, the others in the library joined them at the wall, occasionally exclaiming at having found the names of various relations, or marvelling at the strange monikers that parents had given their young daughters.

Presently Ruby nudged Jadu and pointed to a name near her elbow, and Jadu had to clap a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. They had found their formidable form-mistress's middle name, and they were most definitely going to store it away for future reference should they make it out of their present situation alive. Jadu fished a scrap of paper out of her pocket and scribbled it down before moving further along the wall to a patch that no-one was covering, a patch that was sparkling in the candlelight with a little more regularity than the rest of the Heritage. It took her a while to see what was wrong, but then she found it, and gave a little gasp. She had located an entry all in silver. She had found a witch with two magical parents.

"I've..." she began, but she tailed off before she could finish. She had just read the names, and she needed to read them twice more before the realisation sank in. "Ethel," she murmured to the girl next to her, "do you have an aunt named Isabella?"

"I did," the other replied, perplexed. "She died when I was very young. Why do you ask?"

Jadu didn't reply, walking away from the wall and tapping the shoulder of the Chief Wizard.

"Chief Wizard Hellibore, I think you should see this."

"Have you found it my girl?" asked the wizard, a little louder than Jadu wanted him to. A buzz broke out among staff and pupils alike: 'Jadu's found it! She's found a Liaison!'

Jadu guided the wizard over to the wall and pointed to the name, watching his face pale visibly.

Everyone gathered to read the completely silver entry on the wall, and the hum of excited chatter quickly gave way to shocked silence.

_12__th__ January 1986: Della Louisa Spinder (Née Hallow). Parents: Isabella Evangeline Hallow and Egbert Hellibore.

* * *

_**Note2: TO BE CONTINUED....**

Now what's going to happen? Who is Della? Will she be able to help them? What is the JHC and what did it do forty years ago? What _is _Miss Hardbroom's middle name?

All this and more in **Inferno, Chapter Seven...  
**


	7. Chapter 7

**Note: **Ok, again, this is a slightly slower chapter. I kinda need it logistically so as to be able to get back into the action proper next chapter! So, call this a kind of in-betweeny chapter...

* * *

**Inferno**

**Seven**

Amelia was speechless. She was beyond speechless; more than losing the ability to speak, it was as if she had never learned such basic skill in the first place. She stared at the flickering silver names on the wall as if they weren't there, expecting them to change at any moment, all an awful joke on Agatha's part.

Surprisingly, it was Imogen who was the first to speak.

"Well," she said quietly. "That's something you don't see every day."

"Egbert?" Algernon ventured. "Egbert, are you alright? You look as if you're about to faint."

Amelia turned to view the Chief Wizard. He did indeed look rather ill, the lines on his ghost-white face showing even deeper, making him appear older than he was.

"I think adjourning to the staffroom would be a good idea," said Constance behind them. Her voice was shaking with suppressed rage, and Amelia could tell that she was speaking through firmly clenched teeth.

"I agree," said Amelia, finally regaining the power of communication. "Girls, you could probably do with some breakfast. If you would all like to go down to the kitchens, I'm sure Mrs Tapioca will make some nice hot porridge."

The idea of porridge was met with mixed reactions from the girls, but they obediently filed out of the library none-the-less. Amelia watched Ethel closely. She was the last to leave, moving in a trance-like state as Drusilla guided her towards the door. She turned back briefly before exiting, looking the Chief Wizard up and down, and Amelia could see the emotions fighting behind her eyes. The poor girl couldn't decide what to feel: anger, amazement, disgust... Drusilla tugged her elbow and they left the room, closing the door inaudibly behind them.

"Right," said Imogen decidedly. "Staffroom."

The journey was not a long one, their destination just down the corridor, but Amelia felt that every step was taking a lifetime.

"What on Earth is the matter Amelia?" asked Davina, getting up from her armchair as the others entered. She had been the only one who had not accompanied them on their excursion to view the Heritage, having stayed behind to tidy up the tea things. She looked pleasantly expectant, but the hint of anticipation in her eyes waned on seeing Amelia's grave face. "Did you not find one then?"

"Oh, we found one," said Imogen. "It's just..."

Before she could reply, the final member of the adult contingent had entered the staffroom and slammed the door shut with such ferocity that it bounced open again and hit the wall, causing the ornaments on the mantle to shake.

"AND YOU DIDN'T THINK TO MENTION THIS BEFORE?" roared Constance, coming to stand inches away from Hellibore. It occurred to Amelia that Constance was a good two inches taller than the wizard, but she pushed that thought away quickly, scolding her mind for losing concentration at such an important time. Her stare was unforgiving, and the Chief Wizard seemed to shrink visibly under it. Amelia knew that Constance was a formidable soul, but screaming point blank at Egbert Hellibore was new even for her.

"You must understand," said Hellibore weakly, avoiding Constance's eyes. "I had no idea... When Isabella and I parted, I didn't know that I was... that we were... that she was..."

"Up the duff?" asked a pleasant voice from the open door. The occupants of the room turned to see Enid standing in the frame, peering into the melee.

"I wasn't going to put it quite like that," said the wizard, "but it works as a description."

"ENID NIGHTSHADE!" Constance's already thin temper was becoming visibly more frayed, but instead of continuing in her vein, she stopped and seemed to sag a little. "Well, I suppose I did leave the door open. What is it?"

"Mrs Tapioca wants to know if you want any breakfast sending up," Enid asked sweetly.

"I..." Amelia's stomach answered for her. With the Shield in place she couldn't gauge time from the light outside, but even without looking at the clock, she surmised that they had been staring at the Heritage in the library for a lot longer than any of them realised. "Yes Enid, that would be very kind of her."

Enid nodded and left, pointedly closing the door behind her. Constance gave up completely, sinking into the nearest chair, rubbing her casting fingers. Although outwardly unharmed, they were obviously still causing her pain. Egbert, the only one left standing by this point, followed suite, and an uncomfortable silence enveloped the group.

"You had no idea that you had fathered a Liaison?" said Algernon. He was gazing at his long-time friend with mixed amazement and incredulity. "The things you miss when you're a frog," he muttered. "Your best friend has an illegitimate child he didn't know about who might just save the world. Eating flies, pottering about on lily pads and avoiding being eaten by the many cats of the establishment really is tame in comparison."

Imogen gave a snort of laughter at this remark but quickly disguised it as a cough when Constance turned her glare in the direction of the PE teacher.

"So..." Davina began, testing the waters nervously and eyeing the stationery cupboard with trepidation. "You did find a Liaison."

"Yes Davina," said Amelia wearily. "By some miracle, we have found a living Liaison."

"Well, shouldn't we be trying to find her?" asked Davina. "She may have the power to defeat the Devil, but it won't be much use if she doesn't know that we need her help."

Amelia sighed and closed her eyes, Davina's simple statement providing both a blessing and a curse. She had reminded them, using her own unique brand of common-sense, that they really ought to be finding this young woman and not sitting in the staffroom casting accusatory glances at her father. On the other hand though, where was she going to be found? Egbert was hardly going to know, and whilst Isabella might have had more indication as to her daughter's whereabouts, she had died fifteen years previous. In short, there was no-one who could give them the slightest indication of where their saving grace might be.

Still, thought Amelia bravely, there had to be a way out. They had overcome so many problems already by finding solutions right under their noses: they had found the third option that Agatha had implicitly allowed them. They had found the concept that could save them. They had found the name of the embodiment of that concept. They just needed to find the woman herself, and Amelia was sure that they could do it. If only they knew where to start.

"Amelia?" Davina's voice pulled Amelia forcibly from her thoughts.

"Sorry?"

"I was asking who the Liaison is."

"Her name is Della Louisa Spinder," Constance answered.

"Della?" Davina's face lit up with a wide smile. "Della Spinder? No!" Her voice was incredulous, and she shook her head violently, retreating backwards from the group towards the cupboard unconsciously.

"Do you know this witch?" asked Algernon, trying to mask his giddiness. Davina didn't reply, still shaking her head in disbelief.

"Davina!" said Amelia sharply, checking her own eagerness. She had known that they would find a way out of their latest conundrum, and it had just presented itself. "Do you know Miss Spinder?"

"Of course I do," murmured Davina, sitting back down in her chair. "She runs the little bookshop in town, Spinder's. I buy sheet music from her all the time. She's a lovely girl, makes wonderful chocolate fudge cake. But a Liaison..." Her eyes turned on Amelia, pleading in their depths. "She's not a witch, Amelia. I swear, I've never noticed anything out of the ordinary about her."

"Yes, well," said Constance, a faint note of disapproval colouring her voice. "I think we have already firmly established that you are not the most observant of people, Davina. Spinder's is a shop specialising in works on Occult and witchcraft!"

"But her parents, well, her mother, she certainly isn't a witch," protested Davina, paying no attention to Constance's thinly veiled criticism. Amelia wondered if she had heard it at all.

"She's adopted, Davina," said Imogen gently. "Her real mother was Isabella Hallow."

"Hallow!" squeaked Davina. "Well, it does explain the nose," she added wistfully. "Isabella Hallow? But she never married..." Her wandering gaze came to rest on Hellibore and she remembered the scene that had occurred on her colleagues' return to the staffroom. "Ah. I see."

"We have to get in touch with her," said Amelia. "The problem is how, when we're trapped under the Shield."

"Well we've got a couple of hours to think of that," said Davina airily. "The shop won't be open yet."

Amelia looked at the clock. It had just past seven. Had it really been that long since Agatha had made her terrible announcement? She could not believe that six hours had been spent since they had evacuated three quarters of the student body; it seemed like only a few minutes. If time was going to go so quickly for the rest of the two days before they met Agatha once more, they were going to have to be very careful how they used it.

"I suggest..." Constance began, but she was cut off by a knock at the door. Mrs Tapioca entered, carrying a steaming cauldron of porridge that she placed in the centre of the table. Mildred followed with bowls and spoons.

"There we are," she said proudly. "Some nice-a hot porridge to help-a you find this dangerous liaison person."

"Just Liaison, Mrs Tapioca," said Amelia with a small smile as she ladled herself some of the thick mixture. "Not dangerous."

The cook sniffed emphatically.

"I don't know, these-a magical types are all-a dangerous if you ask-a me." She cast an uneasy glance at the wizards' staffs, propped up in the corner, and hurried away, muttering. Mildred made to follow her but Amelia called the head-girl back.

"Mildred, how are your classmates?" she asked. Even with the extenuating circumstances they found themselves in, she could not let herself be lost in the chaos of the moment and forget exactly why they had undertaken to find a Liaison, dangerous or not, in the first place: the protection of the girls and their welfare.

"Ethel's having a bit of trouble coming to terms with the realisation that her perfect family has a bit of scandal in it..." Here the Chief Wizard shifted uncomfortably. "...but other than that, I think everyone is coping well..." She tailed off.

"How are _you_, Mildred?" asked Amelia gently. They were already indebted to Mildred on so many counts for guiding them down this path and giving them cause to hope in the first place, and Amelia knew that it could not have been easy for her to live with the knowledge that she had, in effect, been the only witness to the catalyst of their situation in her nightmare. "Are you coping?"

Mildred nodded a little too enthusiastically, a nod that quickly became the opposite under her headmistress's eyes.

"Now what do we do, Miss Cackle?" she asked quietly.

"Well, we know who Miss Spinder is, and where to find her," said Amelia brightly. "So, that is going to be our next course of action." She knew it was not the answer that her pupil wanted to hear, but Amelia could not give her that answer. She did not know it herself. Even if they managed to get out from under the Shield, would Agatha be watching? Would she see it as an escape attempt, and how would she extract her revenge? Yet another problem to be overcome. Amelia sighed as Mildred left the room, wishing that she could alleviate the unease that had settled over the group. Her simple, innocent question had raised so many others, ones that could not be so easily waved away or half-answered.

"Well," Constance said, coming over to the table and helping herself to porridge, her efficient self, but still with that edge of tiredness that had pervaded her deputy's actions since she had entered the room. "I think Mildred has raised a valid point. We need a considered and informed plan."

Amelia sat back and let Constance take charge, falling to contemplation. The school had come through so much, her pupils and staff had traversed so many difficulties with increasingly ingenious solutions. If anyone could think of a way around their seemingly impossible problem, it was the forces of Cackle's Academy.

* * *

**Note2: ** Ok, I just realised that none of the questions asked at the end of chapter six were answered here... Never mind! The answers are coming in due course. Next time on Inferno: broomsticks, bookshops and bats...

*Kimmeth gets out red felt tip and draws big pretty arrow towards the green review button.*


	8. Chapter 8

**Note: **Tada! Here we are. Chapter eight, in which the plot is progressed a little...

* * *

**Inferno**

**Eight**

"Are you sure this is going to work?" asked Mildred of her headmistress. She and Miss Bat were standing in the courtyard in their cloaks and hats, broomsticks in hand, the other members of the school having unconsciously formed a semi-circle around them.

"Well, in our current circumstances Mildred, it would not be prudent to say that anything is certain, but I am quite confident that this is going to work, yes. For a start, Agatha is probably so self-assured that she will not be keeping a constant watch on the castle, believing, however misguidedly, that her Shield will prevent the rest of us leaving."

Mildred nodded uneasily. That went along with the idea of Agatha being confident of her own victory and not caring about the possibility of finding a Liaison, but still, surely she would have _some _kind of measure in place to prevent any misdeeds on her sister's part of the deal?

"In any case, if she counts the number of occupants of the school, she will find the correct number. Two additional people entered, and now two people are leaving. It just so happens that those who are leaving are not those who arrived." Miss Cackle gave a warm smile of reassurance, and moved aside to allow Mildred and Miss Bat room to mount their brooms. It had been unanimously decided, in the discussions that had taken place in the staffroom after breakfast, that Miss Bat should be the one to find Della, seeing as though the two were already known to each other. On establishing that, theoretically, one other person could leave the castle with her, Mildred had been nominated as a chaperone for the chanting teacher. Miss Cackle felt that it was her duty to remain with the school, and Miss Hardbroom had declined on the grounds of needing to stay to lift the shield. The Chief Wizard was understandably averse to the idea, and Mr Rowan-Webb had said that he ought to give his friend moral support. Thus, the task had fallen to Mildred, as the next position of authority within the school hierarchy.

She mounted her broom and hovered next to Miss Bat, who was stroking the handle of her own transport and crooning softly to it. Out of the corner of her eye, Mildred could see Miss Hardbroom shaking her head in despair.

"How's your banana, Mildred?" asked Miss Bat. Mildred hid a small smile. She hadn't called her broom that since the first year, but now, with Miss Bat for her sole company for an hour's journey down into the town to seek out Della Spinder, it seemed fitting to resurrect the nickname. She patted the parcel tape around the handle, replaced many times over the course of the years.

"Ready?" asked Miss Cackle. Mildred nodded. Miss Hardbroom raised her arms and cast the spell to lift the Alchemist's Shield. There was once more a blinding flash of light, which faded to the half-light of an overcast morning on the mountain. Mildred had to blink a few times to accustom herself to the new brightness, having become so used to the perpetual dark under the Shield. She rose quickly into the air, but just as she and her teacher were about to clear the towers, the darkness fell again with an almost palpable motion. Mildred pulled the broom to an emergency stop and looked down. Miss Hardbroom was doubled over, tightly gripping the fingers of her left hand with her right.

"Constance?" she heard the headmistress's concerned voice say as she rushed to her deputy's side. "What happened?"

"The weight on my hands... The pain overtook me for a moment there." She straightened again and prepared to cast once more.

"Constance, if you lift the Shield, could I help you in anyway? I know you value your independence but you can accept our assistance when you need to. Especially considering..."

Mildred knew what Miss Cackle was going to say even without her voicing the thoughts, and she suppressed a shudder. Watching Miss Hardbroom's fingers grow back was not an experience that she was going to forget in a hurry, and Mildred was sure that there was something behind Agatha's supposed gesture of goodwill. The constant pain that her form-mistress seemed to be going through was surely a side-effect, although whether it was the only one remained to be seen.

Miss Hardbroom gave a brief nod, almost as if it embarrassed her to take up Miss Cackle's offer, like she was admitting weakness. She cast the spell again, and this time Miss Cackle also raised her hands, so that Miss Hardbroom could transfer some of the weight across. The bright morning sky appeared once more, and within seconds Mildred and Miss Bat were away, across the boundary, beyond the towers and flying towards the town at the bottom of the mountain.

"What's Della like?" she called to Miss Bat above the roar of the wind.

"She's... well, I've always thought she was fairly ordinary," Miss Bat replied, turning her face into the wind and letting it blow the metaphorical cobwebs away. "She's a nice enough girl, and she loves her old books." She shook her head. "Why didn't I see that she was a witch, let alone one with such amazing powers?"

Miss Bat fell to muttering to herself, and Mildred did not attempt to ask anything else of her chanting teacher. The wind was now too strong to hear clearly above anyway, and its chill autumn bite was freezing her hands into place around her broom. Still uneasy about heights, Mildred did not usually make a point of looking down when she was in flight, but something in the corner of her eye caught her attention and forced her gaze earthwards. Ignoring the sudden spasm of fear that jerked through her stiff limbs on seeing the mountainside forest so far below, Mildred peered at the landscape beneath her for evidence of something out of the ordinary. Her brow furrowed in puzzlement as she found nothing untoward. Scolding herself for jumping at shadows, she turned to face due North and the direction of their destination once more. Again, she caught a glimpse from the corner of her eye, and this time she recognised it for what it was. At the very edge of her perception, she could see the flickering image of the endless icy wastelands of Hell surrounding the castle. It seemed almost as if they were perched on the edge of a precipice, needing only a gentle breeze to plunge them into the depths below. Mildred shuddered, not wanting to dwell on the intense insecurity of her beloved school's current position. She pushed the half-image to the back of her mind and focussed on following Miss Bat's trail, intent on their goal.

By the time they were out of sight of the castle, the sun was appearing, seeming to break feebly through the thick cloud barrier that had settled over the mountain on an almost permanent basis, and after a while Mildred could feel her numb fingers begin to ache as they warmed up. She flexed them slightly before gripping onto her broom handle even tighter than before – she did not want any accidents; not today, not on her important mission.

"We're nearly there!" Miss Bat called excitedly. Mildred risked a momentary glance downwards to see the tiled roofs of the town, the Georgian terraces in their neat rows looking like a model village from their height. They began a rapid descent so as not to be seen flying by the town's inhabitants – for the non-magicians it was a perfectly ordinary Tuesday morning, and businessmen and women alike would surely have something to say about two strange ladies flying broomsticks above their heads in the middle of the rush hour, even if it was only to curse that they did not have such an efficient mode of transport.

Mildred and Miss Bat touched down in a quiet alley on the outskirts of the town. Miss Bat made to hurry away, excited both by the prospect of seeing her friend again and by the knowledge that this friend might well be the answer to Cackle's current crisis.

"Miss Bat!" Mildred called, and when her teacher turned back she indicated her hat and broomstick.

"Oh, yes, right. Of course."

Mildred quickly made a bundle of their hats, cloaks and brooms and cast a simple protection spell on it, hoping that would be enough to divert any attention from them. Anyone who came too close to their bundle would be hit with a sudden doubt as to whether or not they left the oven on at home and have to hurry away to verify the point, but Mildred could not be sure that it would continue to work for however long they were going to be away. Nevertheless, she felt it was probably wise not to run around the town with her broomstick in tow; the excuse of a fancy dress party was only viable in certain situations.

"This way!" said Miss Bat, skipping out of the alley and turning left into a market street. The traders were too absorbed in assembling their stalls to pay any attention to the teenage school girl and eccentric old woman, the latter brandishing a conducting baton like a sword in front of her and directing an imaginary symphony orchestra at arm's length.

"Where are we going?" asked Mildred, having to jog to keep up with her teacher's fast pace. They were headed away from the main shopping district of the town, passing through more and more residential areas.

"You'll see," she said. "You have to know where you're going in order to find it."

Somehow, this response did not fill Mildred with confidence. They rounded another corner into a street seemingly filled with houses, and Mildred was sure that they had taken a wrong turning until Miss Bat stopped abruptly in front of a particularly imposing building.

"Here we are!" she said brightly, gesturing to the house with her baton before opening the gate and dancing down the steps to the basement entrance. Mildred followed, and immediately saw that they were in the right place. A sign in black metal work above the door read _Spinder's_ in elaborate cursive, and the nearest window pane was covered in spidery silver calligraphy. _Spinder's Antiquarian and Occult Bookshop_, it said. _First editions, bookbinding and restoration, sheet music and poetry. Specialised works bought and sold. _The rest of the glass was etched in beautiful patterns resembling spiders and cobwebs, so delicately done that Mildred surmised magic to be the artist. Miss Bat opened the door then, the tinkle of the old-fashioned bell as she entered bringing Mildred out of her reverie. She followed her teacher into the warm basement and looked around her in amazement. She had never seen so many books in such a small space, not even in the library at Cackle's. The shop had floor-to-ceiling bookcases around three of the walls, and each shelf was full, sometimes three deep. None of the works looked to have been written in the last century, and most bore titles more worthy of the 'dangerous spells' section back at the school than a harmless shop open to non-magicians. A couple of moth-eaten armchairs in fading red velvet were placed in one corner of the room, creating a little reading area, and a rickety wooden stepladder was leaning, folded, against the nearest shelf. At the far end of the room, a heavy mahogany desk played host to an antique cash register and an abandoned set of bookbinding tools. The shop seemed to be deserted.

"Hello?" Miss Bat called. "Della?"

"Just coming!" There was the noise of cardboard boxes being kicked out of the way, and the door to the rest of the house behind the desk slowly opened to reveal Miss Della Spinder, the woman who was to be Cackle's saviour...

* * *

**Note2: **To be continued as soon as I have written the next chapter!

*You know what I am going to say by now....*


	9. Chapter 9

**Note: **Erm, I have nothing to say. Enjoy!

**

* * *

Inferno**

**Nine**

Della looked... ordinary. There was no other word to describe her. Mildred had been slightly apprehensive of what to expect of a person who ran a bookshop devoted to occult and other various magical phenomena, but she need not have worried. The woman who had emerged from the back room was in her early twenties, with dark brown hair curling softly round her face and over her shoulders. She was wearing jeans and a bright purple jumper, ordinary casual attire for the season.

"Davina!" she exclaimed on seeing her friend. "I haven't seen you here in a while. I've got some more of the Heidelberg chants in stock if you want to have a look at the music. They were only delivered yesterday, so you'd be the first..."

She was cut off by Miss Bat's impassioned cry.

"Oh Della!" she said. "There's no time to lose! I have something to tell you."

Mildred hung back, wondering how Miss Bat was going to broach the subject. _We're all about to be sent to Hell and we need your unearthly powers to stop it_.

"Yes?" Della came round the desk, her expression now one of worry as she edged towards the teacher.

"Della, I'm a witch. Cackle's is a school for witches, and I teach chanting there, and this is Mildred, one of my pupils..." Mildred shifted uncomfortably; she had not wanted to be drawn attention to. "... and now we're all doomed, and we need your help, and..."

Miss Bat tailed off and looked up at her friend where she had fallen to her knees during her emotional speech, concerned by the lack of reaction.

"Is that all?" asked Della. "Well, I could have told you that myself."

"You mean, you knew?" Miss Bat seemed shell-shocked, allowing Della to pull her gently back to her feet. "You knew I was a witch all along?"

"Well, the many times you whirled into my shop wearing your cloak and pointed hat with a broomstick in one hand did give the game away slightly." Della shook her head with a smile. "At first I thought you were just a slightly batty old dear, but then you started trying to cast magnification spells on all the small-print books so as to be able to read them more clearly."

"Oh..." Miss Bat was completely lost for words, and Mildred could see that the purpose of their visit to Spinder's had flown clean out of her head. She sighed, unwilling to be the bearer of bad news.

"Miss Spinder," she ventured cautiously.

"Please, call me Della," the addressed said, turning her warm smile on Mildred. "How can I help you?"

"Well, there's something else. We really do need your help at Cackle's."

"Of course!" Miss Bat's hands flew to her mouth. "Oh, how could I have forgotten? Oh no, what will Constance say..." Della held up a hand to stop her and focussed on Mildred.

"If I can be of assistance then I will certainly do so, but I really don't think I can do much, unless your problem is a great deal of ancient books in need of rebinding."

"No, it's slightly more urgent than that." Mildred groaned inwardly, she had no idea how she was meant to tell Della what she needed to know. For perhaps the first time in her life, Mildred found herself wishing fervently that Miss Hardbroom would appear out of nowhere and take over the delicate task. "This is to do with your parents."

Immediately Mildred cursed herself. What if Della didn't know she was adopted? It was one thing being implored to help a castle full of witches because you were the only thing standing between them and eternal damnation, but quite another for a school girl to tell you that your parents were not actually your parents.

Thankfully, Della saved her any awkwardness with her next question.

"My real parents, or Marlon and Caroline?"

"Your real parents," said Mildred, relieved. "You see, your mum was a witch, and your dad's a wizard, and that makes you a Liaison, a witch with incredible power. We need that power. "

"Oh."

That was all Della said. The shock that Miss Bat had expected upon her own revelation of magical connections seemed to have been delayed, and it was coming now. She took a few steps backwards and sat down heavily against the edge of the desk.

"Oh," she repeated, staring down at her fingers. She shook her head. "No, that can't be right. You must have the wrong person." She looked up at Mildred and then at Miss Bat. "It's not that I don't want to help ladies, but you see, I'm not a witch, with incredible power or otherwise. I've got no magical abilities at all. I'm sorry, I really am."

"But, you're a Liaison," murmured Miss Bat. "So powerful you can defeat the Devil himself."

Mildred was stunned. They had come so far, and yet they had been met with a terrible impasse. It made no sense, a Liaison with no power. It was impossible, an anomaly.

"We're doomed," said Miss Bat faintly. "We're all doomed."

"Now now Davina," said Della, "I'm sure it can't be that bad." She looked to the student for confirmation, but Mildred knew that her face was not reassuring. Della bit her lip.

"Why don't you explain everything over some chocolate fudge cake?" she asked, moving past her two visitors to place the 'closed' sign on the shop door and twist the key in the lock. Mildred's stomach growled her agreement. Thanks to her wildly pumping adrenaline, she had only been able to manage a few mouthfuls of porridge at breakfast, and that now seemed like a very long time ago. Della smiled and motioned for them to follow her through the door at the back of the shop. She led them along a narrow corridor filled with stacked boxes to a cramped space at the back of the house. The only furniture was a worn sofa in the same fabric as the chairs in the shop and an antique dresser in one corner. Every other available space was covered in books and boxes.

"The shop doesn't have a store room," Della explained, "so I have to use what little space I can." She gestured towards the sofa and Mildred sat down next to Miss Bat. Della pulled the various components of a mismatched tea set out of the dresser and moved one of the boxes into the centre of the room to act as a table, setting out cups and plates. "Now," she continued as she moved a complete set of leather-bound Shakespeare plays out of the way to reveal a kettle plugged into the wall. "Are you going to tell me exactly why you're doomed?"

Mildred looked at Miss Bat, and realised with a sinking heart that, once again, she was going to have to take over as the voice of reason, as much as she felt she could not do the role justice. She began to tell the tale as best she could, echoing the description that Miss Cackle had given to the wizards when they had first arrived. The explanation reached its natural conclusion just in time for Della to pour her a cup of tea and hand her a piece of gooey chocolate fudge from a plate that had been residing atop a very battered copy of _Pride and Prejudice_.

"And the Liaison is the only person who can help you to defeat the demon?" Della exhaled deeply and sat down on a box opposite Mildred and Miss Bat.

"Are you certain that you don't have any powers?" Mildred asked, although she knew how pathetic the question sounded.

"I am very certain, Mildred. I have tried in the past, thinking that there might be something... _different_ about me."

Mildred noticed the strange emphasis on 'different', and the way a sorrowful glaze came over Della's eyes as she said it.

"Couldn't you try again?" she coaxed. The small spark of hope within her was refusing to let go after having battled against the odds for so long. Della shook her head quickly, fearfully almost.

"I really don't think that would be a very good idea," she said, and swiftly turned her attention to the cake knife, muttering something about 'tempting fate'.

"Why not?" asked Mildred, anxious for further information and still unable to quite grasp the situation. Before Della could reply, however, something rather strange happened. Miss Bat, upon noticing that the sugar bowl was empty, cast a simple spell to conjure some more. A veritable mountain of sugar appeared in her teacup with an audible thud, spilling over the sides and onto the floor.

"Oh dear," she said. "That wasn't what I intended to happen."

"And that is precisely the reason why it would not be a very good idea for me to attempt anything remotely magical," said Della, jumping up to sweep up the spilled sugar. "Magicum tempestua."

"I beg your pardon?" said Miss Bat, shocked, stirring her tea and paying no attention to the sugar that she was sending snowing onto her lap with every swirl of the spoon.

"You probably know it as the Foster's Effect," said Della, sitting back down on her box wearily. "I have been plagued by it all my life, although I don't know why. Things _happen_ when I'm around, usually magical things. That's why I tried it out myself, many years ago, after reading every book on the subject I could reach. Needless to say, the consequences of my attempts were such that my family was surviving on takeaways for the next week as our fridge had managed to catch fire. I'm serious!" she exclaimed on seeing Mildred trying to stifle a giggle. "Naturally, you can see why I'm a little averse to testing your theory."

Della sighed and leaned forward, resting her head in her hands.

"I wish I knew what to say," she groaned. "Unless the mythical power of the Liaison is the ability to cause catastrophe without so much as lifting a finger, I really am useless as a devil-fighting wonder woman." She gave a snort of dry, humourless laughter. "I still have my Wonder Woman costume from hallowe'en four years ago. I never thought I'd need it again, but I kept it just in case. How ironic."

"Maybe you should come anyway," said Mildred, a plan forming in her mind. "Maybe it's all part of the plan."

"I admire your optimism, Mildred, but..." Della broke off suddenly and held up a hand to prevent Mildred from speaking.

"I just heard the shop bell," she hissed.

"But the door's locked!" Miss Bat mouthed indignantly.

"Exactly."

Della got up and made towards the main shop, Miss Bat and Mildred following, peering around the back room doorframe and along the corridor.

"I can't see anyone," she whispered, stepping out into the corridor and inching towards the shop.

"Della, it might be dangerous!" pleaded Miss Bat, tugging on her friend's sleeve, trying to pull her back into the back room.

"I know that." Della reached behind one of the boxes in the corridor and pulled out a golf club. "If it worked in _Dogma_ it can work for me," she muttered under her breath, and Mildred exchanged a puzzled expression with her teacher. Together the three of them advanced towards the shop, but it was clear to see that it was empty. Obviously perturbed, Della adjusted her grip on the nine-iron and checked the lock.

"Maybe I was imagining it," she said, shrugging her shoulders and turning back towards them. Mildred was going to accept her explanation until she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. It was the feeling of being watched.

"Oh no my dear," came a horribly familiar, honeyed voice in the corridor behind them. "You aren't imagining anything."

* * *

**Note2: **TO BE CONTINUED!

In case anyone is as confused as Mildred and Davina by the 'Dogma' reference, it is a film in which a demon gets killed by being hit with a golf club that had been blessed by a priest. It's a very funny film, and it has Alan Rickman in it.

*Kimmeth points her slice of pizza - Domino's sausage and mushroom - towards the review button.*


	10. Chapter 10

**Note: **Tada! Here it is - my quickest update ever. Tis just under eighteen hours. Phew! But, since I knew how anxious you all were... enjoy!  


* * *

**Inferno**

**Ten**

"Who the hell are you?" asked Della, anger winning out over fear in the battle for emotional supremacy.

"I could ask you the same question," said Agatha pleasantly. Mildred did not want to turn and face their nemesis, but she knew that it had to be done. She was standing in the corridor behind them, Mildred's plate of unfinished chocolate cake in one hand.

"She's..." Miss Bat began, drawing herself up to her full height in indignation, but Mildred nudged her to be quiet. Something in the back of her mind told her that it was not a good idea to let their enemy know of Della's potential power, and much less of her lack of it. If Agatha had not surmised that Della was a Liaison, it was best to leave it as an unknown, lest she ask for a demonstration of the mythical magical strength.

"Oh, it really doesn't matter," said Agatha airily, waving the words away with her free hand. "I have no time for pathetic little non-magicians, even if they do make exceedingly good cake. No, I was happily minding my own business when it came to my attention that two witches who were meant to be inside the castle were in fact flying around the town as if nothing was wrong with their world at all. Naturally curious as to why this might be, I followed them _here_ of all places." Agatha looked around the corridor and into the shop beyond with disgust. "I must admit, I was expecting something more of an occult bookshop, but I can see the attraction for people like you. Amelia's efforts were always..._lacklustre_."

Mildred began to back up towards the shop; the only feasible option she could think of at that moment was to run for it and pray that they could make it back to the broomsticks before anything serious befell them. As long as Agatha was talking, she was fairly harmless. As long as they let her have her speech, they were alright.

"Take that you hag!" screamed Della, running forward, swinging the golf club above her and evidently intending to bring it down on Agatha's head. A wall of fire sprang up around Agatha and Della dropped her weapon as it melted into nothing against the heat. The flames died and Agatha was nowhere to be seen.

"Honestly," she said, from behind them this time, in the shop. Mildred turned to see her perusing a book from the desk. "A golf club? How very human."

The book she was reading burst into flames, and Mildred felt Della stiffen beside her at the maltreatment of one of her precious antiquarian works.

"It's quite simple my dear. If you just stand back and let me take these two escapees back into my care, then no harm will come to you, I promise."

Della snorted her disagreement.

"You don't believe me?" Agatha asked, her voice hurt. "And I tried so hard to be extra-convincing as well. Oh dear. Never mind though. I've no qualms about a little collateral damage in my quest." She clicked her fingers and Mildred felt an unnatural icy wind begin to blow around her, tugging at the ends of her plaits and the hem of her skirt. She could see crystals riming over the faded wall paper of the corridor behind her, and for a brief moment she thought that Agatha was pulling the bookshop down into the ninth circle along with the castle. The wind was visible now, picking up the dust from the boxes and books in the shop and forming a tornado within the room. The volumes on the nearest bookcase were dragged from their shelves and into the whirlwind, pages tearing easily from the spines before flying towards Mildred and Della, battering them and forcing them backwards into the narrow corridor towards the back room. Mildred hit her head against something, and she realised that she could go no further back: they were flat against the wall, still being assaulted by the books.

"Remarkable, isn't it?" she heard Agatha's voice call above the roar of the wind. "They always did say that the pen was mightier than the sword. But, for my purposes, I think the sword may still have an edge."

Mildred couldn't see what was happening through the tornado in front of her, keeping her pinned against the wall. She heard Della give a scream beside her, and then she saw it, the bookbinding knives that had been on the desk next to the cash register, flying through the air towards them like darts towards the bull's eye. Mildred tried to lift her hand to cast a spell, but she was completely frozen, both the force and the temperature rendering her unable to either move or speak. She could see the blades coming towards her, ready to ram home straight between the eyes, when suddenly they disappeared, veering off course, turning back in the direction they came. She heard Agatha give a howl of rage and felt the effects of the whirlwind begin to lessen, allowing her to move once more, and she peered through the last remnants of the destructive gusts in front of her.

A figure was standing in the middle of the hallway, a tall, black-clad figure that would have been ramrod straight had she not been bent over, clutching her fingers.

"Miss Hardbroom!" she cried in equal relief and amazement. The wind had died completely by this point and Mildred could see her teacher clearly, holding the bookbinding knives tightly, a trickle of blood running in thin rivulets down her clenched fist and dripping onto the floor.

"Bloody Foster's," she heard Miss Hardbroom mutter before she stood straight again, just in time to cast a spell to counter the jet of flame that an enraged Agatha had sent her way. Fire and ice soared towards each other, meeting in the middle of the shop with a shower of sparks that danced in the air before disappearing. The beams seemed to be perfectly matched, neither yielding more than a few inches before forcing its way back into dominance. Both witches were completely focussed on their goal, and suddenly Mildred had an idea. She cast a spell for water to put out the flame, praying that what she predicted would occur did, praying that the unpredictable force of nature that was the Foster's Effet wouldn't choose this moment to desert her. There was nothing for a few seconds, and then the almighty roar of running water above them as drips began seeping though the ceiling of the shop. Della looked from the flood pooling over the floor of her livelihood to Mildred, her expression one of horror.

"What are you doing?" she hissed, barely audible above the noise of the water. "You know your spells don't work with me around!"

"I know. That was the point!"

Something else could be heard above the roar of the water and the clashing of the magical elements in the middle of the shop; the sudden downpour was doing nothing to dampen the intense combat taking place. It was voices from upstairs.

"The main water pipe's burst!" "Where's the cut off?" "In the shop in the basement!"

There were heavy footsteps on the steps outside the house, and Agatha noticed the impending presence of at least half a dozen witnesses to their supernatural display. With a roar of anger, flames encircled her and burned brightly for a split second before she disappeared. Miss Hardbroom's posture sagged just as the people from the house above arrived on the scene. Della took this as her cue, effortlessly avoiding the streams as she moved through the shop and opening the door.

"Hi," she said brightly, although there was an unmasked tremor in her voice that Mildred could not fail to notice. "I would have turned it off myself but I don't know where the stopcock is."

A man came into the shop and, after a minute or so of fumbling behind the desk, the noise ceased save for the intermittent drips coming through the ceiling. Mildred let Della take care of the practical aspects of the life that she and Miss Bat had so unexpectedly interrupted and went over to Miss Hardbroom, who was upright once more.

"Are you alright?" she asked quietly. Miss Hardbroom nodded, opening her clenched left hand to reveal the bookbinding knives embedded in her palm.

"I really should be more careful about avoiding injury to my hands," she quipped, irony heavy in her voice. "That was quick thinking on your part, Mildred, using the Foster's to create a distraction. Not even Agatha could continue such a fight with so many potential witnesses." She grimaced and gave a small yelp in the back of her throat as she tugged the blades free, fresh blood welling up in their place.

"Here, let me see that," said Della, coming over with a small first aid box and bandaging Miss Hardbroom's hand deftly. "It'll be alright, I've cut myself on those knives many a time before, and I'm still here."

Mildred noticed the pale scars that covered her fingers as they fluttered over the dressing.

"Thank you," said Miss Hardbroom quietly, flexing her fingers. Only the slightest twitch of her lip betrayed her calm facial expression, but it was enough to let Mildred know how much pain she was in.

"Miss Hardbroom," she began, unsure of how to ask her many, many questions. "Why... How..."

"If the questions you are asking are 'Why am I here?' and 'How did I get out of the castle?' then I will answer those in good time, Mildred." She turned to Della. "Hello. You must be Della Spinder. My name is Constance Hardbroom, Cackle's deputy head. I'm sorry that we should have to be introduced in such dire circumstances, but time is of the essence and we really must get back to the castle. I trust that Mildred and Davina have told you everything?"

Della nodded, speechless for the moment.

"Agatha – that was her, your unwanted guest – she will not be put off by this distraction for long, and the sooner we return to Cackle's, the better." She paused. "At present, it seems that she has no idea of your power," she said to Della. "Therefore I think it best if you come with us, for your own protection."

"I'm grateful, Miss Hardbroom but really, I was just telling Mildred, I have no power."

"Well, seeing how easily you were incapacitated by a relatively simple tornado, I had guessed that already," said Miss Hardbroom, "but that's not important. The fact remains that you are a Liaison, and you may well be our only hope. Please come with us."

Mildred had never seen her form-mistress look so in earnest, her brown eyes pleading whilst the rest of her face remained impassive. Della looked around the room, at her one destroyed book case, at the puddles on the floor and the pages strewn about everywhere.

"Well, I'm hardly likely to keep the shop open in such conditions as this, am I?" She sighed. "I'll come. I'll help if I can. Don't say that I didn't warn you if I turn out to be about as much use as a chocolate teapot."

"Then there's no time to lose." Miss Hardbroom turned towards the shop door. "I'll explain everything on the way, Mildred," she added, on seeing her pupil open her mouth indignantly.

"Wait," said Della, and she rushed off into the back room before returning moments later with a handbag swinging from one wrist and something bunched in her arms. Miss Hardbroom raised an inquiring eyebrow.

"I call it my witchy coat," said Della, a blush rising in her cheeks. She cast her eyes downwards, embarrassed, placing the bag on the desk and pulling on the garment. It was a vintage frock coat in restored black velvet, with silver spirals embroidered all over it. It certainly looked magical enough, and Mildred was mesmerised by the patterns for a few moments before Della crossed the shop towards them, keys in hand.

"Hang on," she said, stopping in the middle of the floor. "Where's Davina?"

Mildred thought hard, and realised that she had not seen her chanting teacher all through the skirmish with Agatha. Della was already off, returning to the back room once more, calling her friend's name. Mildred and Miss Hardbroom followed, arriving just in time to see a hysterical Miss Bat burst forth from the dresser in the corner. Whilst Della assured her that everyone was perfectly fine, Mildred thought that she could hear a muttered 'typical' from the witch beside her. At length, they moved through the shop again, and Della was just locking the door when Miss Bat gave an exclamation of surprise.

"Constance!" she cried, only just noticing her colleague's presence. "When did you get here?"

Mildred did not even attempt to stifle the giggles that erupted at this remark and increased on seeing the deputy head give a sigh of utter despair at the diminutive chanting teacher.

* * *

**Note2: **Coming up in Inferno 11 - More magic! More mystery! More gratuitous injuring of HB! And a reference to Sense and Sensibility!

*Kimmeth constructs a makeshift mind-control machine out of her hairdryer and her flatmates colander, and sends out beams to all her readers- REVIEWREVIEWREVIEWREVIEW...*


	11. Chapter 11

**Note: **Ok you lucky, lucky people, two chapters in one day really is something for me, it is in no way the norm! Anyway, enjoy. And laugh at my bad use of Sense and Sensibility references.

* * *

**Inferno**

**Eleven**

"Now Mildred," said Miss Hardbroom as they made their way through the increasingly busy streets of the town to where they had secured their broomsticks. "I believe I owe you an explanation."

Mildred nodded, more concerned with understanding the fortuitous turn of events that brought her teacher to their rescue than with the strange looks that their group was receiving.

"Shortly after you and Miss Bat left the school, there was a slip in the Shield, only momentary, but a slip none-the-less. Since a Shield weakens the further away its caster moves, we came to the conclusion that Agatha had moved away from the school, and that she was following you." Miss Hardbroom paused, pointedly. "We were proved correct."

"Yes, but how did you get out?"

"We thought that if Agatha was no longer watching the school, we could afford to let someone else leave the castle. The wizards used their magic to lift their Shield, but they could only do so for a brief moment. It does take a certain degree of skill to be able to contradict such a powerful spell." Mildred turned her head on one side, wondering if she could perhaps detect a note of pride in her form-mistress's voice. "Nevertheless, a brief moment was more than sufficient for me. I left the school and flew to the town as fast as I could, finding where you had cast your protection spell over your brooms. I left mine with yours and made for the bookshop, arriving not a moment too soon from what I witnessed."

"I must admit," said Della dryly, "of all the ways to go, stabbed in the head with the tools of my trade wasn't one I'd particularly considered. I should really thank you for that." She paused, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth for a few moments before speaking again. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Miss Hardbroom replied with a courteous inclination of her head. Mildred fell to thinking. Why had Miss Hardbroom been the one to come to their aid if she was the only one who could lift the Shield satisfactoraly? Why not one of the wizards? She shrugged her shoulders, answering her own question - Miss Hardbroom was the best offensive fighter the school had at that moment. If they had anticipated violence of any kind, then Miss Hardbroom would always be the one to send to help, no matter the circumstances. She sighed and broke her stride so that she was no longer struggling to keep up with her teacher's march and hung back to fall in beside Della.

"How are you?" she asked nervously. So far, Della appeared to be taking everything that had happened to her in her stride; maybe years of living with the Foster's Effect had inured her to strange occurrences, but Mildred could see her pale blue eyes were wide with worry, and the shaky quality to her voice that had presented itself earlier had not subsided.

"At the moment, tolerable," she said. "I think I'm half working on the happy misappreciation that this is all an extremely strange dream and I'll wake up in a couple of minutes." She sighed. "I'm used to strange things happening. I'm used to Davina's little bouts of eccentricity. But some things take a little longer to get used to than others." She stared pointedly at Miss Hardbroom's rigid back, and Mildred gave a small smile. Even she was still getting used to Miss Hardbroom, and they had been in acquaintance for nearly four years. Della began to speak again, this time in a lower voice, her emotions heavily checked.

"I'll probably collapse into a gibbering heap as soon as the adrenaline wears off," she said. "At the moment I think my mind has gone into a little self-defence mode. All I can think about is that I should have covered the cake in foil before I went out, and that I was supposed to have someone coming to value a Brontë manuscript at four o'clock." Della tucked her head down into the collar of her coat and crossed her arms tightly against the chill November air. Mildred shivered and wished that she had not left her cloak with the broomsticks. Luckily, they did not have far to walk before they reached the alley where they had stored their transports, and, once they were all safely within the shadows of the street, Miss Hardbroom came to an abrupt stop.

"I can foresee a certain logistical difficulty in getting back to the castle," she said. The four women looked at the three broomsticks.

"Oh don't worry!" exclaimed Miss Bat. "Della can hop on the back of mine!"

Della did not look particularly appeased by this idea, but after looking Miss Hardbroom up and down a few times, and seeing the state of disrepair that Mildred's own broom was in, it became evident that Miss Bat's broomstick was going to be the safest option by far.

"Will you be able to manage?" Miss Hardbroom asked. "Never having ridden a broomstick before, I mean."

"I'm sure I'll be fine. I've ridden pillion on my brother's moped a few times, and I don't think anything could be more terrifying than that. It's just like riding a bike really, isn't it?"

"No Miss Spinder," said Miss Hardbroom, exasperation colouring her voice, "riding a broomstick is nothing like riding a bicycle."

Della shrugged apologetically at Mildred and watched as the three witches mounted their broomsticks. Miss Bat shuffled a little further forward on her handle and patted the wood next to her, indicating for Della to sit beside her. Gingerly Della perched on the broom, looking for the first time exceedingly nervous about the prospect of flying and very obviously wondering whether such an outwardly flimsy branch could support the weight of two adult women. She locked her arms around Davina's waist and hung on tightly.

"It's not exactly Colonel Brandon taking me off into the sunset on a white steed, but then again, I'm no Marianne Dashwood. Lead on MacDuff!"

"Giddy up!" cried Miss Bat as they rose into the air in unison, increasing in height until they hit the relative safety of the low cloud cover, where they remained flying in silence for several minutes before Della made the mistake of looking down. She cursed loudly and freed one hand, clamping it over her eyes. The movement caused Miss Bat to squeal and veer off course, and Mildred turned back at once to help them.

"What's the matter?" she asked, worried as the chanting teacher struggled to regain control, closing her eyes and inadvertently setting her broom on a crash course with Mildred's. The latter only just managed to duck out of the way in time, holding on to her hat as the others zoomed over her head.

"I hadn't bargained on just how high up we were going to be," muttered Della, moving her hand from her eyes and fixing Mildred with a petrified stare. "I've never suffered from vertigo in my life before, but I mean, you don't even have seatbelts on these things! Forget what I said earlier, this is far more terrifying than being driven around the streets of Liverpool on the back of a moped." Her hold on Miss Bat tightened involuntarily, invoking a gasp from the smaller woman. "Sorry," Della murmured, relaxing her grip by a minute margin.

"What is going on back there?" asked Miss Hardbroom from her position leading the convoy.

"Nothing," Mildred called. There was no reason to cause Della any further embarrassment. "We're nearly there now," she said brightly on observing the thickening clouds that heralded their nearing the constant gloom of Castle Overblow and its environs. "You'll be back on the ground in no time."

Della said nothing, but raised an incredulous eyebrow before shutting her eyes tightly to avoid the temptation to look down again.

After a few more minutes fraught flying, they came into land on the frozen earth outside the gates, Mildred and Miss Bat hovering just above the ground whilst Miss Hardbroom quickly dismounted.

"The Shield can only be lifted by a person who is already under it," she explained. "I shall go in and then lift the Shield from the inside so that you can fly over." She paused in front of the gate, hands on hips, studying it closely before reaching out and brushing the tip of her broom handle against the wood. A shower of sparks erupted, showing that the Shield was most definitely still intact.

"Constance..." Miss Bat began nervously.

"Not now Davina, I'm thinking," Miss Hardbroom muttered.

"But Constance, how are you going to let them know to lift the Shield?" she asked.

"That is precisely what I am thinking about, Davina." She raised her hand, casting fingers at the ready. "Perhaps if I cast an amplification spell then they will be able to hear me in the castle."

She had only uttered the first syllable of the spell when Della gave a polite cough and waved from behind Miss Bat.

"Ah yes," said Miss Hardbroom with a small sigh. "Perhaps a spell would not be the best course of action. But how else can we get a message through an impenetrable magical force-field?"

Mildred slouched on her broom, dejected. The Shield blocked light, people, magic, everything except sound it seemed. And yet, there was something else, something that might just work. Something non-magical, non-human, something perfectly harmless.

"Della," she said eagerly, "do you have any paper in your bag?"

"Of course." Della let go of her hold on Davina completely, nearly ending up on the ground before Mildred reached across to steady her seat, and rummaged in her handbag for a sheet of paper and a pen, which she held out to the student before reclaiming her vice-like grip on her friend. Mildred smoothed out the paper and scrawled a quick message on it before folding it into a rudimentary aeroplane shape and launching it with all her might at the nearest window, never having been so glad that Cackle's had shunned glass in her entire life. It might not work, she reflected, but they had lost nothing by trying.

The paper plane sailed through the window with no evidence of anything obstructing its passing. Moments later, faint and muffled sounds could be heard within the castle, and there was a brief flash of light. Once it had dispersed, Mildred saw that Miss Hardbroom had also gone, disappearing into the ether and into the school.

"Come on," she said, kicking off from the ground and soaring skywards. "She'll lift the shield any minute, we should be ready."

Ignoring Della's muted moans about being so far from the ground once more in such a short space of time, Miss Bat followed her, and they waited, hovering together by the tallest tower for the flash of light that would signal their safe passage.

It came on cue, and both witches angled their brooms downwards in a sharp dive, aiming to cross the boundary as quickly as possible. But it was not quick enough. They felt the Shield drop again, oppressive and heavy, pushing them down and down into a dizzying, out-of-control spiral. Mildred could not hold back a scream as she hurtled towards the courtyard, and her fellow fliers were experiencing the same terror. Miss Bat was repeating a mantra over and over, and Mildred could discern only the words 'we're going to crash, we're going to crash, we're going to crash.' Even in her descent, Mildred could feel a pang of sympathy for Della, whose experiences in the world of witchcraft seemed only to be getting progressively worse as her day went on. Still tumbling towards the ground with no hope of regaining a balanced flight plan, Mildred saw the cause of this terrifying turn of events. Miss Hardbroom was lying on the ground, face down in a dead faint, and Mildred could just discern the tiniest sparks of flame dancing on the tips of her casting fingers...

* * *

**Note2: **To be continued, but I must warn you in advance that chapter twelve is giving me a logistical headache. Please hang on if it doesn't arrive tomorrow, I will have it up ASAP!

*Kimmeth prays that people will still review in spite of the above....*


	12. Chapter 12

**Note: **Tada! I sorted out my logistical problem by, erm, just sitting down and writing the darned thing. So you didn't need to wait too long after all.

So here goes, chapter twelve. In which the pace slows a little, in which there is a conversation between old adversaries, and in which we FINALLY discover HB's middle name...

* * *

**Inferno**

**Twelve**

As soon as Miss Hardbroom lifted the Shield, Jadu reflected, everything seemed to happen in slow motion. She heard the pained grasp of breath and saw her teacher begin to shake with the effort of holding the spell before collapsing on the ground gracefully. She saw Miss Cackle and the wizards begin to run across the courtyard towards her, but she knew that they wouldn't make it in time to break her fall. Jadu tried to move, to run across to help them, but it felt as though her legs were wading through treacle, and she could only watch in horror as a terrified scream signalled the imminent arrival of the flyers, about to crash spectacularly having been forced off course by the Shield dropping back into place like a spring-loaded mousetrap. It was then, watching Mildred tumbling earthwards, that time seemed to catch up with itself. Miss Cackle and the Chief Wizard stopped in their tracks and turned back, casting a spell to break their fall and land them safely on the ground, and Jadu found herself running towards her form-mistress. The group that had gathered in the courtyard seemed to split then, some veering towards Mildred and Miss Bat and others towards the fallen potions teacher.

Mr Rowan-Webb was the first to reach her, carefully moving her onto her back before shaking her shoulders.

"Miss Hardbroom, can you hear me? Miss Hardbroom? Constance?"

Jadu reached out and grabbed her wrist, feeling for a pulse, but she had no idea what other First Aid she should attempt. She looked down at her own wrist to time the heart rate against her watch, although she could already tell that it was far slower than what it should be. It was then that she caught a glimpse of Miss Hardbroom's casting fingers. For a moment, it appeared that they had gone again, but within the space of a blink they were back, although Jadu could not fail to notice the tendrils of black smoke wafting from her fingertips, and the fresh blood seeping through the clean white bandage on her left hand. Whatever Agatha had done to her hands, it had certainly not ended out there on the icy plains of the ninth circle, but Jadu pushed her dark thoughts to the back of her mind. There were more pressing concerns; they had to get Miss Hardbroom conscious again. Jadu dreaded to think what would happen if they did not have the magnificent power and sheer common sense of the deputy head on hand to guide them through this difficult time.

"She's still breathing," she heard Mr Rowan-Webb tell someone above them, and then she heard Miss Cackle's voice beside her. The other group had obviously come over when it was established that the wayward broomsticks had landed safely.

"Come on Constance, please wake up," the headmistress said. "We're counting on you."

There was no sign of comprehension on Miss Hardbroom's part, and Jadu could feel panic beginning to rise in the back of her throat. She had to do something, anything to help, but she didn't know what.

"CONSTANCE PANDORA HARDBROOM!" she screamed, to the awe of the crowd gathered around them. "WAKE UP!"

The words seemed to have had no effect for a few moments, and then Jadu saw her teacher twitch.

"Jadu Wali," she mumbled in a weak voice, opening her eyes and surveying her scared pupil blearily, "if I ever hear you use my full name in public again, the consequences will be dire, do you understand?"

"Yes Miss Hardbroom." Jadu grinned in relief, and for the briefest of moments she had the urge to hug her formidable form-mistress, but that thought soon passed when the latter's eyes narrowed on hearing Miss Bat coming pushing through the throng towards her, and she groaned as she struggled to stand. Miss Cackle and the Chief Wizard helped her to her feet, and much as she tried to bat them away, their grip on her shoulders was unrelenting.

"Constance!" Miss Bat cried. "Oh dear, you must have had such a shock, I'll go and make you a tonic to calm your nerves!"

"Davina, I am perfectly composed, and perfectly able to maintain a vertical position without assistance," she added loudly. Convinced that she would not faint again, her assistors let go. Miss Hardbroom brushed herself down as Miss Bat hurried into the castle, calling to Mrs Tapioca for all the onions she could find. Privately, Jadu thought that Miss Bat herself was more likely to need one of her ghastly concoctions for shock than Miss Hardbroom was, but she could not stop the gasp that had preceded her teacher's faint from pushing itself to the forefront of her mind. It was more than an exclamation of pain, it was almost a realisation, as if she knew that her strength was failing her and that there was nothing she could do to prevent the inevitable.

"Nevertheless Constance, I think that a cup of tea and a sit down is order of the day at the moment," said Miss Cackle, guiding Miss Hardbroom back through into the main school building, despite her protests.

The small crowd began to disperse, some of the pupils following the adults back into the school. Jadu remained where she was before espying her friends gathering at the other end of the yard, where Mildred had last been seen on her collision course with the ground. Jadu made her way over and squeezed in between Ruby and Maud, surveying the scene in front of them.

Mildred was kneeling on the ground, next to a young woman whom Jadu guessed must be the mysterious Della. She was sitting with her head between her knees, her hands pressed over her face, hiding her from view. She was shaking from head to toe, and Mildred had a hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her, but Jadu could still hear the snuffling of suppressed sobbing.

"Miss Spinder?" Maud ventured. "What's the matter?"

"Isn't fairly obvious?" asked Enid. "She nearly ended up with her face squashed into the ground, and if what Miss Bat was saying earlier is true, then that was her first time on a broomstick in her life. Not exactly a great first impression of witchcraft, is it?"

"Can you all go away, please?" came Della's muffled voice.

"Not until you say you're going to be alright," said Mildred plainly. "I can't leave you like this!"

"I'll rephrase," muttered Della from behind her hands. "Can you all go away please because I am about to be violently sick and I would rather not have an audience."

"Ah," said Mildred, standing quickly and taking a few steps backwards. "Right. Erm..."

Jadu could appreciate Mildred's dilemma, wanting to make sure that her charge was alright versus respecting her wishes for privacy, but they were saved from any further awkwardness by another familiar voice arriving on the scene.

"Girls, go back inside," said Miss Cackle, hurrying over. "I'll take care of Miss Spinder."

Reluctantly, on Mildred's part at least, the girls made their way back to the castle. Jadu cast a glance back over her shoulder at their new guest, but Miss Cackle was blocking her view.

"Poor thing," said Mildred as they trailed along the corridor, not really sure of their ultimate direction. "Not only do we nearly destroy her shop, we tell her that she's our only hope of survival and nearly get her killed twice before she even sets foot inside the castle."

"It's enough to make anyone ill," Ruby agreed.

They stopped as they came towards the small inner courtyard, seeing Ethel seated alone in one of the alcoves, staring at her hands in her lap.

"Should we?" Maud began, but Enid pulled her back.

"Just leave her be," she hissed. Mildred shook her head, and Jadu agreed internally. Ethel may have done more than enough to warrant their turning a cold shoulder in the past, but in their new circumstances, the girls were feeling an unconscious pull towards each other, a need to stick together to battle against the odds.

"Ethel?" Mildred began tentatively. "Ethel, are you alright?"

"Yes!" she snapped, jerking her head up towards them. "I'm perfectly fine, why wouldn't I be? It's not like my family's just been scandalised, has it? Have you come to gloat, Mildred, that the Hallows aren't as perfect as we've always painted ourselves?"

"No, of course not!" said Mildred indignantly.

"We were trying to be nice," said Enid, "but if our concern isn't wanted then we can easily take it elsewhere. Come on."

Maud, Enid and Ruby moved on along the corridor in the direction of the kitchens, wondering audibly about lunch. Mildred dithered, not knowing whether to follow them or not, and Jadu hesitated too when she saw a single tear drop into Ethel's lap. The other girl had since relaxed her defensive stance and had returned to staring at her boots mournfully.

"Honestly Ethel, are you alright?" Mildred, ever-compassionate, crossed from the corridor into the dark courtyard and sat beside her former enemy.

"Everyone loved my Aunt Isabella," she said, not meeting Mildred's eyes. "Especially my other aunt, Isadora. They were heart-broken when she died. I was only two years old, I don't remember it, but her name's always been there, all while I've been growing up. It was always there when I did something wrong; my relatives would always mutter to each other 'why can't she be more like Bella?'" Ethel paused, and Jadu fancied that she was remembering a particular occasion in the past. "I suppose I've come to idolise her a bit, this mysterious witch who I don't remember but whom everyone loved so much. It has come as a shock, finding out she had a..."

Ethel struggled for the right word.

"A liaison which led to a Liaison?" suggested Jadu. Ethel laughed weakly.

"Finding out she wasn't as perfect as everyone said she was," she finished. Finally she looked up and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her cardigan. "It makes me wonder if they knew, the rest of my family, and then that brings me round to the horrible thought that I might never see my family again." She sighed. "So much for seeing if I'm alright, I've just managed to make you two as miserable as I am."

Jadu didn't reply. Ethel's words had struck a chord in her. It was true. They were all erring on the side of optimism, and they had plenty to be optimistic about, with all the discoveries that had driven them on towards this point, but they could not deny the very real possibility that it might all go wrong at the last moment, that they may all be doomed. Even if, when push came to shove, Miss Cackle surrendered the school to Agatha, it was hardly different to letting them all perish, especially if Agatha had her new, indestructible powers to test on her students. All they could do was to hope for the best, pray that Della could save them all, but having heard Miss Bat's protestations before she and Mildred had left, there was a question mark hanging over the Liaison's ability to intercede.

"Don't think about it," said Mildred firmly. "Let's go and find the others and get some lunch. I don't know what Agatha did with my chocolate cake, but I'd barely had half the slice. It was really good, honestly, kind of crunchy on the top..."

"Did you say Agatha?" asked Jadu and Ethel in unison, a mixture of awe and worrying combining in their voices.

"Yes..." Mildred tailed off. "You don't know what happened at the bookshop, do you?"

Jadu shook her head dumbly, and Mildred took a deep breath, launching into the tale whilst they made their way to the kitchens. Of course, as soon as she had finished she was obliged to begin again for the benefit of those who hadn't heard the first part of the story.

"I told you," sniffed Mrs Tapioca emphatically from the stove, where she was frying bacon to put in sandwiches for the girls, "these-a liaisons, they are-a dangerous!"

Jadu laughed and took a bite of her sandwich, wondering why it took a dire emergency for them to have halfway decent food at Cackle's, but before she could think on it any further, there was a knock on the kitchen door. The headmistress poked her head around the frame, and beckoned to the head-girl and deputy.

"Mildred, Jadu," she said. " If you would like to join us in the staff-room, we are discussing our next course of action."

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**Note2: **Tada! We reached chapter twelve people! This is officially the longest fic I have ever written! *Kimmeth lets off fireworks.*

Erm, d'you fancy leaving a review in honour of the occasion?


	13. Chapter 13

**Note: **I'm back! Sorry for the marginally longer than usually wait, I was suffering from that most terrible of afflictions, Mondayitis...

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**Inferno**

**Thirteen**

Amelia looked around the gathered staff and senior pupils in the staff-room, all seated around the table, which had been pulled out into the centre of the room to allow for a more conference-style set up. She paused on Della, who was sitting curled up on her chair with her coat wrapped tightly around her, resting a mug of tea on her knee. She had recovered from her earlier bout of sickness but she was still far paler than Amelia thought healthy and she was shivering intermittently. Her eyes were unfocussed, staring unseeing at the middle distance, and Amelia felt nothing but sympathy for the obviously terrified young woman who had been thrust unceremoniously into their world.

"Ladies, wizards," she began calmly, "firstly and foremost, I would like to congratulate you all on your perseverance and determination. We have done magnificently to come this far, and I am extremely grateful to you all." Her eyes settled on Della once more. How easy it would have been for her to refuse to help; to want nothing to do with their problems, but she was here, against the odds, and willing to give what assistance she could. That brought Amelia painfully onto her next point, but she pushed it aside for the moment, not wanting to rush things, and extremely conscious of how her statements should be worded so as not to cause any offence or upset.

"Before we go any further, I believe introductions are in order. This is Della Spinder, our Liaison." It was perhaps a little strange to be referring to her as 'our', as the school had no claim to ownership, but the tag seemed to fit in the circumstances. 'Our' Liaison equated to 'our' saving grace. Della gave a momentary flash of a smile that did not reach her frightened eyes and waved to the gathered party.

"Della, you already know Davina, Mildred, Constance and myself; this is Jadu Wali, deputy head-girl." Jadu grinned. "Imogen Drill, our PE teacher."

"And fellow non-witch," Imogen observed, extending her hand towards Della, who shook it briefly before letting go and seeming to curl back into herself.

"And these are our allies from the wizarding world, Algernon Rowan-Webb and Egbert Hellibore."

Algernon, naturally cheerful as he was, shook Della's hand with a broad smile. Egbert merely nodded his acknowledgement. For the first time, Amelia could see the hint of familial similarity between father and daughter, although in the constantly changing candlelight it was hard to tell. The planes of their cheekbones seemed similar, and their pale, slightly sorrowful eyes. She stopped her contemplation as the introductions came to a natural close and she was forced to confront the realities of what she had to say next.

"The time has come for us to decide upon our next course of action. We have found a Liaison, but her power is not exactly what we had planned for."

"In other words, I'm no guardian angel here to lead you to salvation," said Della wryly. "I hate to admit it Miss Cackle, but I may just make your situation worse rather than better, if the Foster's is anything to go by –you won't be able to use magic to defend yourselves without the fear that it might simply blow back in your faces."

"Perhaps that's it," said Mildred suddenly. She had been lost in thought for the past few moments, and now she seemed to come to herself, taking in the perplexed faces of each of the other occupants of the room in turn. "Perhaps the Foster's _is_ Della's power. Presumably, it will affect Agatha as much as it affects us. Maybe that's what the book meant by being powerful enough to defeat the Devil."

The adults were silent for a moment, and Amelia felt a surge of pride towards her pupil, before Constance spoke, her voice uncharacteristically weak. Amelia looked at her, worried. She had not been entirely convinced of her deputy's well-being ever since that fateful fight on the ice at midnight, and this faint served only to add further weight to her convictions. Despite her wan complexion her fingers remained raw red, and she moved them stiffly, obviously in constant pain.

"I would be inclined to believe you Mildred, if it were not for the completely random nature of Foster's. Yes, we can predict that it will occur when we use selfish or trivial magic, and yes we can predict that it will occur when we experiment too much. But the Foster's that accompanies magic in day to day life is far more complicated and irrational. This is the type that Miss Spinder seems to attract, since we can hardly accuse her of performing trivial spells."

Mildred's face fell.

"Besides Millie," said Della, attempting to make up for the girl's disappointment, "it's all very well cursing both sides with my amazing air of catastrophe, but no-one would win the fight."

"That's true," sighed Egbert. "We'd be casting backfiring spells all day. We'd never get anywhere from an offensive point of view. We wouldn't defeat Agatha, merely incapacitate her, along with ourselves."

"Then we must be missing something," said Jadu. "There must be something we've overlooked. Come on Mil, let's get back to the library." She stood and made to leave, but Mildred remained stirring her tea, melancholy.

"We've already exhausted the library," she said sadly.

"No we haven't," said Jadu. "We know what we're looking for now. Something that gives a Liaison their power. I mean, it must be written down somewhere, mustn't it? That single paragraph in _The Sources of Sorcery_ is hardly going to be the only mention of Liaisons and their power in the entire school, is it? And after all, we still have over a day to look for it."

Mildred nodded, obviously unable to be charmed by Jadu's optimism. Amelia smiled and waved them on their way, wondering how long Jadu's new-found positive outlook was going to last. She trusted both her senior pupils implicitly when it came to acting in an overall rational manner, and she knew that they would make the right decisions in the end, no matter how much misadventure it took to get there. This determination to find out more about the power of the Liaison could maybe aid them in realising and releasing something in Della's magical aura. After all, thought Amelia, her mind drifting back to the silver script on the library wall, it was written in the Heritage that she was a witch, with magical ability, and the Heritage never lied. That was why it was so important to the Guild, and why it needed a safe home. The Heritage never lied. If it said that Della was magical, then she was. The key was finding out _how_.

"Well," said Della, after the two girls had vacated the room. "Is there anything I can do to help? Or would I be better off staying out of the way lest I cause the castle to fall down around your ears?"

Amelia looked up sharply on hearing this comment. It was not said with any sarcastic intent, and Della was smiling weakly as she said it, but her eyes were still sad.

"Oh Della!" Miss Bat began, all of a flutter. "I'm sure..."

"I was joking, Davina," Della sighed. "But honestly, just say if there's anything I can usefully do without the risk of causing calamity."

Algernon laughed and nudged Egbert.

"So droll," he murmured. "Obviously runs in the family, Egbert, eh?"

"Mr Rowan-Webb!" Constance hissed sharply, but it was too late. Della's head jerked up from contemplation of her mug, and she regarded Algernon with a fixed stare, her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits.

"I beg your pardon," she said quietly.

"I, erm," Algernon stuttered. "It was nothing. Slip of the tongue."

"No, it wasn't," said Della. "I heard the words 'runs in the family, Egbert'." She turned her piercing gaze on Amelia, who shifted uncomfortably.

"Della, we were going to tell you..."

"No," said Della, shaking her head. "No..." She stared down into her lap, repeating the single word in a mantra. "No. No. No."

"Della, we understand how you feel," Davina began.

"How?" Della snarled. "How can you understand how I feel when I don't even understand it myself? I've just come face to face with my real father, the man who probably never even knew me since I was given up at birth, and it turns out that not only is he a wizard, which I thankfully knew already, but he's the Wizard-In-Charge! And we've all been sat here, and everyone knew except me. And I have no idea what I'm meant to feel, or meant to say, so please, Davina, if you know how I'm feeling, please tell me so I can feel it myself!"

She placed her mug on the table where it shattered into pieces, lukewarm tea spreading over the lace tablecloth and stood in as dignified manner as possible before leaving the room at a run. The door swung shut, and the reverberations caused the plates on the mantel to quiver and threaten to fall. Constance made to cast a spell to steady them, but Amelia stopped her.

"I think it is safe to say that given the turbulent atmosphere, the Foster's is more likely to make an unwelcome appearance." They both looked at the ruined mug.

"I'll go after her," said Davina, opening the door. The faint sound of a door slamming somewhere down the corridor drifted back into the staffroom, and Davina flinched. "On second thoughts," she said, coming back into the room fully and inching ever closer to her stationery cupboard, "she probably wants to be on her own at the moment." The final syllable became a squeak as she dashed into the safety of the cupboard and locked the door from the inside.

Amelia sighed and shook her head before turning to the whispered argument that had erupted between Algernon and Constance.

"We agreed that we weren't going to tell Della that Egbert was her father until after she'd settled into our world a little better!" the latter hissed. "And you have to go and put your overly large foot in it by making wisecracks!"

"I'm sorry," Algernon pleaded, looking more than a little scared by Constance's fuming proximity. The memory of her earlier outburst at Egbert was obviously still fresh in his mind. "It just slipped out. I was thinking about the similarities between the two of them, and that seemed like something Egbert would have said in the same position, and..."

"And you didn't think!" Constance growled. Amelia thought for a split second that she could see smoke arising from the irate teacher's casting fingers, but she put it down to a silhouette of the candle light. It was most inconvenient, the Shield blocking the natural daylight, but she knew that she could not ask Constance, nor the wizards, to lift it for any length of time.

"If you'll excuse me, Miss Cackle, I think I could use some air myself." Egbert stood and gathered his staff and cloak from the corner of the room where they were placed for safe-keeping, leaving the room at a sedate pace.

Amelia watched his retreating back before the door blocked him from view. She caught Imogen's eye, and the younger woman raised her eyebrows. Amelia shook her head in reply. She had no idea what they were going to do next. The revelation and subsequent fallout must be as uncomfortable for Egbert as it was difficult to comprehend for Della. His daughter, whom he hadn't even known existed before today, had formed a rather unfavourable impression of him having hardly been introduced. He would be having as much difficulty knowing what to feel as she would be. But then again... Amelia frowned to herself. There had been something in Egbert's manner, something in the way he had looked at Della when she had first entered the room under Amelia's careful guidance, nodded grimly in recognition of the two men already there and taken her place at the other end of the table, still suffering from nausea. Perhaps she was not so unknown to him as he had first given them cause to believe...

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**Note2: **Tada! There we have it. Coming up on Inferno: a rather interesting history, and we finally find out about the mysterious JHC...

*Kimmeth offers digital cookies to reviewers.*

*Kimmeth remembers that she is on a diet and has no cookies. She offers digital porridge instead.*


	14. Chapter 14

**Note: **The majority of this chapter is given over to a descriptive history. Nothing to be alarmed about, just not much in the way of action, that's all!

Big thanks to all my regular reviewers. You make my day folks!

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**Inferno**

**Fourteen**

Mildred heard raised voices from the staffroom, but she could not make out what they were saying, and then the door was flung open with some degree of anger. She and Jadu turned back to see Della running down the corridor in the opposite direction from them, her head hanging and her hands balled into fists, the ever-present handbag bouncing against her hip with enough force to surely leave a bruise.

"Della!" Mildred called, taking off after her, but it was too late. She had gone out of sight into the main entrance hall, and Mildred couldn't determine which path she had taken.

"What do you think happened?" asked Jadu.

"I don't know," said Mildred. "It must have been something quite dramatic. I mean, I know from experience that Della's made of stern stuff." She remembered the incident in the bookshop, and Della's outwardly calm reaction to it. She twitched uneasily when she remembered Della's other words when questioned:

_I'll probably collapse into a gibbering heap as soon as the adrenaline wears off._

"Maybe it finally got a bit too much for her," Jadu said, voicing Mildred's exact thoughts. "It is quite a lot to take in."

Mildred shrugged.

"Come on," said Jadu, hooking her arm through Mildred's and steering her in the opposite direction, back towards the library. "Let's round up the others and get searching. You never know what we might find."

They rounded the corner, and were about to enter the library when they saw the Chief Wizard, leaning heavily on the balustrade that enclosed the inner courtyard and looking as if he was carrying the weight of the Alchemist's Shield on his shoulders. Mildred stopped suddenly, and Jadu gave her a concerned glance. She motioned for her friend to go on and approached the morose wizard nervously.

"Chief Wizard?" Mildred asked. "Is everything alright?"

"That, I believe Miss Hubble, would depend entirely on your definition of 'alright'." He sighed and turned to face the young witch beside him. "I have a daughter who, whilst she may not hate me, certainly does not hold me in very high regard at the moment. I'm at a complete loss for what to do."

Mildred opened her mouth but paused before speaking, wondering exactly how to formulate her question in the most tactful way possible. The query had been playing on her mind ever since the brief conference in the staffroom had begun.

"Chief Wizard," she began cautiously, "you knew about Della before, didn't you? You knew you had a daughter, I mean. I could see it in your eyes in the staffroom just now, the way you looked at her; I've seen the same look in my dad's face. It's the look he gets when he realises his little girl's grown up."

Hellibore nodded silently.

"Yes Mildred," he said at length. "Yes, I knew I had a daughter, a Liaison. I even knew she was named Della, since I was the one to give her that name. I knew she was adopted by Mr and Mrs Spinder. But, you must believe me when I say that I had never seen her before in her lifetime."

"So why did you lie?" asked Mildred simply. "Why didn't you tell us before, and why did you lie afterwards?"

"A lifetime's worth of lying does ingrain it into your mindset, Mildred." He paused, contemplative. "In order to fully appreciate why I did what I did, and why Isabella did what she did, we must go back in time to a series of events that happened long before you were born. It is a long and tumultuous history, and I think you'd do better to hear it sitting down. Shall we?"

He gestured out into the small courtyard, and the alcove where Mildred and Jadu had sat with Ethel not so long ago.

"Now Mildred, you must understand that Miss Cackle does not want the story I am about to tell to be made public knowledge amongst the pupils. It covers a particularly sordid part of our magical past that most witches and wizards prefer to leave safely swept under the rug. I, however, believe that you are capable and sensible enough to understand it. Do I have your word that you will not mention what I am about to tell you to your fellow students without first thinking of the consequences?"

"Of course," said Mildred, and she could feel the adrenaline beginning to rush again, wondering what could be so terrible that it was to be kept a secret at all costs. More words from earlier in the day crossed her mind. "Does this have anything to do with the JHC, by any chance?" she ventured.

"Yes Mildred. This has everything to do with the JHC. The events I am about to relate form what is known unofficially amongst the magical community as 'the JHC Massacre'. Officially, it has no name, because officially, it never happened.

"The JHC stands for the Joint High Council, which in turn is short for the Joint High Council of Magical Arts and Sciences. It is made up of the most powerful witches and wizards in the country, representatives from both the Witches' Guild and the Wizards' Council. It is the ultimate authority on magical matters, although in recent years, its role has diminished somewhat to bureaucratic pen-pushing; most of the serious matters are dealt with by the Guild and the Council respectively, it takes something most extreme to escalate a matter to the JHC.

"This was not, however, always the case. About forty years ago, the JHC wielded far more power than it does today, and it was very strict in enforcing its rules, namely, ensuring that wizards and witches did not gain too much power and threaten to expose the whole magical community to the non-magic world, or, even worse, attempt a takeover of the JHC itself. That was their primal fear.

"It was at about this time that the Liaison myth first came to fruition. Some magical scientists came up with the theory that a child with two magical parents – which was uncommon at the time but not so unheard of as it is today – would be even more powerful thanks to the double magical heritage. And, it was true of all the Liaisons that there have been in history: Merlin, Morgana, Nimue, they were all Liaisons, as were various other magical figures famed for their sheer power."

"Wow," murmured Mildred, awed. She knew of the legendary power of those three magicians, but it had never crossed her mind that it might be because they were Liaisons.

"Wow indeed. Now, the JHC, paranoid as it was, saw the idea of Liaisons as a serious threat to its stronghold over the magical community, and naturally, it wanted to eliminate anything that posed a threat. The laws concerning marriage between wizards and witches were changed, and whilst such unions were not made completely illegal, the procedures for undergoing such a marriage were so long and complicated that most couples were put off from tying the knot. Knowing that this would be the case, the JHC then changed the laws concerning the magical rights and status of children born to two magical parents out of wedlock. These laws were very quickly rescinded, there was public outrage at their content. So the JHC had to find another way of protecting themselves against Liaisons.

"There is a branch of the JHC known as the Task Force. It acts, or used to act, there is much evidence to believe that it has been formally disbanded, as a sort of 'secret police' for the JHC. So secret, in fact, that when questioned, the JHC denied all knowledge of the Task Force. It was widely known, however, to exist without question.

"After being forced to rescind the Magical Child Laws, the JHC set the Task Force to work. If they could not deal with the problem legally, then they would do so underground. Liaisons were hunted down. Many people were reported missing in the months that followed."

"Oh my God," said Mildred, her hand flying to her mouth in shock and disgust. "The JHC ordered this?"

"Well, they say they know nothing about it," Hellibore sniffed. "But the fact that everyone who went missing had two magical parents is a coincidence too heavy to be ignored. It is known as the JHC Massacre for a reason."

"But they're the people in charge! The magical government!"

"Governments are always illicitly removing people they suspect are damaging to them," Hellibore said sadly. "It is common practice. One would think though, that in this civilised country, and in our magical community, that it would not happen to us."

"So, the Liaisons," breathed Mildred. "They all disappeared."

Hellibore nodded.

"But what about Della?" Mildred asked. "How come she..." Here she found herself using the very phrase that had puzzled her earlier in the staffroom "slipped through the net?"

"That was the genius of Isabella Hallow," sighed the Chief Wizard, the note of admiration and sorrow in his voice for the departed woman very apparent in their unguarded conversation. "Bella and I were very much in love, although we didn't have the heart to go through the rigmarole of marriage – those laws were not rescinded. When Bella discovered she was pregnant, we immediately knew that we had to part. Although the JHC Massacre had ended a good fifteen years before our relationship began, we knew we still had to be careful, and we both loved our unborn child enough to want to protect her, whatever the cost. Even if it meant that neither of us would see her again.

"Isabella and I went our separate ways, although we continued our correspondence up until her death." The wizard smiled at a fond memory before returning to Mildred's attentive face. "Luckily Bella was living alone at the time; the only member of her extensive family that she had regular contact with was her twin Isadora, so she managed to conceal her pregnancy very well. To Dora, she passed it off as a mistaken night of passion with a non-magician.

"When Della was born – I had chosen her name months before, it was my grandmother's and it reminded me of Bella – her mother gave her up for adoption straight away, although it broke her heart to do it. She thought that if Della could grow up in the non-magical world, it would keep the JHC off her tail, even though we both knew that the hunts had stopped; we couldn't be too careful. She kept a close eye on her progress however, and ten months later, she told me that she had been adopted by a non-magic couple: Marlon and Caroline Spinder. She visited Della many times over the years; as a child she was often hanging around in her adoptive... no, in her _father's_ bookshop." Mildred noticed the stress, and the pained look in his eyes. She wondered how it felt to know that his daughter, whom he obviously loved dearly, had grown up thinking of another man as her father. She couldn't fathom it, and she felt a deep sympathy for both members of this twisted relationship, for both Della and the wizard.

"After Bella died," he continued, "I was going to keep up her intermittent visits, but I found I couldn't. It would be too strange to suddenly walk into my daughter's life like that, even if it made no difference to her outward existence, even if, to her, I was just another strange man in the shop." He sighed. "Little did I know that she was going to walk into mine."

There was a long pause.

"I lied, Mildred, for the same reason I have been lying for the past twenty-three years. I wanted to protect my daughter."

There was a sound at the balustrade, akin to a muffled sob. Mildred whirled round to see Della half-hidden in the shadows behind a pillar. She left Hellibore and moved over to the Liaison.

"How much did you hear?" she whispered.

"Enough," replied Della. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "Christ, my world is so screwed up at the moment. I really want to hate someone right now, but I don't know who!" She looked across the small courtyard at the man who was, undeniably, her father. "I think I need to talk to him," she said, and gave Mildred a weak smile.

Mildred nodded and left them alone, going to find the others in the library. She cast a glance back over her shoulder to find Della now occupying her previous position by Hellibore's side. It would take time, there was no doubt of that; Mildred knew that they wouldn't reach acceptance and understanding overnight, but perhaps they were working towards improving their relationship one small step at a time.

* * *

**Note2: **Anyone who has read the Twilight Saga might see some similarities between the JHC and the Volturi. This is purely coincedental, I only noticed myself on the final reread.

*...*


	15. Chapter 15

**Note: **Hello my darlings, here we are again with our first (and hopefully not last) chapter told in HB's mindset: enjoy.

Oh, and in case there's any confusion: Della's inherent Foster's doesn't mean that every spell that is cast near her will automatically fail - it just means that they are an awful lot more likely to fail!

* * *

**Inferno**

**Fifteen**

Constance looked down at her hands, palms pressed lightly against the smooth wooden table top. Even in the dim candlelight, she could see that the skin of her casting fingers was a much ruddier hue than the others. She kept them like that for a moment, before wiggling them gently and casting a few harmless sparks, unable to decide whether it hurt her more to move them or keep them still. The pain was increasing with every spell she cast, there could be no doubt of that, it was settling into an acute burning sensation, worse at the tips of her fingers, and it was causing her head to begin to throb in sympathy. She pressed the heels of her hands into her temples, knowing that that pressure on any other part of her hands would be unbearable. The last time she had lifted the Shield, she had passed out from the pain, something that she was not going to allow to happen again. Constance had been mortified when she'd come round, not merely because Jadu had slipped her detested middle name to the entire staff and fourth year, but because she had fainted in the first place. She was the strong, dependable witch, they were counting on her to keep a level head. She was a constant, it said so in her very name, and she had to keep going.

Constance shook herself physically out of her moment of self-pity and returned to the journal she was perusing, a study of the Foster's effect through time. Yes, there it was, her prediction had been proved correct. She closed the book once more and, furtively looking around to check that there was no-one in the immediate vicinity, she crossed her arms on the table in front of her and rested her aching head on them, closing her eyes as if that would block out the pain. She was drifting along in a semi-doze, idly thinking that she should take some wide-awake very soon if she was going to get through the next crucial twenty-four hours without keeling over. She had become quite dependent on the stuff in recent years, and she remembered the last time that she had been without it for any length of time. She had fallen asleep in the middle of a second-year potions class, but in her defence, she'd had a very trying morning. Constance pushed the memory to the back of her mind, and suddenly, the sharp rapping sound of knuckles on stone made her jerk herself upright again, much to the complaint of her head. She looked around to see Della hovering by one of the pillars that intersected the dungeon room into which Constance had retreated, looking around at the cobwebs and old junk with polite wonder.

"Miss Hardbroom?" the Liaison began tentatively.

"Please, call me Constance," she said. Constance had to remind herself firmly that, despite her comparative youth, Della was not a pupil, and shouldn't be treated as such. She deserved as much respect as the rest of the staff, more so considering the vast burden she had willingly undertaken.

"Constance," Della tried. "Mildred told me that you might be down here; I've been looking for you all over. May I?" She gestured to the other chair near the deputy-head, who nodded, giving a quick glance around her surroundings. Just as Davina had her cupboard, Constance was not without a place to hide in should she need it. True, she only came down here occasionally, but it was nice to have somewhere away from the rest of the school. She remembered the last time she had found herself here, and the conversation with Mildred that it had engendered. They had reached a new level of understanding then, not that either would show it outwardly. Presently Constance returned her attention to Della, who had produced a black mobile phone from her handbag. Constance's first reaction, as it was when she saw anything vaguely modern and electrical in the school, was automatically to puffify it into mist, but she restrained herself.

"I was wondering," she said, "if you could do some sort of spell on my phone. I want to call my mum, warn her about what's happening, but I can't get signal here. Knowing my luck it'll probably blow up in our faces, but I thought that you'd have the best chance of success out of everyone since you're the most powerful one here."

Constance thought she felt a slight decrease in the ever-present pain in her fingers as the glow of pride ran through her on hearing the compliment. She was not used to receiving flattery in such a form, given so innocently and seemingly without thinking. It felt good, better than the sly, oily compliments given to her by the likes of Mistress Broomhead, Miss Pentangle and that awful DJ that had visited the school last year.

"I'll see what I can do," she said, taking the small black object from Della gingerly and flexing her fingers to ease the impending stiffness from keeping them rigid for so long. She ignored the spasm of pain and cast a spell, seeing the signal indicator on the screen fill magically. She handed it back to Della with a brief smile.

"Thank you!" She pressed a button and held the phone to her ear. "Hello Mum, it's Della."

Constance could just make out Caroline Spinder's voice on the other end of the line.

_Della! Are you alright? I heard that there was a flood above the shop, and I've been calling you all day but got no reply... _

"I know, the signal's rubbish at the moment. Listen, Mum, I'm fine. The insurance will pay for the damage in the shop."

_But where've you been all day where there's no signal? _

"I've been..." Della faltered. "I've been visiting Davina."

_What, the crazy old woman who buys all the old sheet music?_

Constance stifled a laugh at this, admittedly rather accurate, description.

"Well, yes, that is one way of putting it," Della smiled and rolled her eyes at Constance, mouthing 'mothers.' "I just wanted to let you know that I was ok."

_Oh well, that's good to know, and it's always nice to hear your voice. Are we still on for lunch tomorrow?_

There was silence.

"You know Mum, I think I should probably postpone it. I mean, I'm going to have to get the shop sorted out, stuff like that."

_Of course love, I understand. Friday then? _

Della paused.

"Sure Mum." She closed her eyes.

_I'll see you on Friday then. _

"Yep." The brightness in her voice was painfully false, and Constance wondered if Caroline could hear it. "I love you Mum. Send my love to Nicky if he drops in."

_Of course I will. Is... Is everything alright Della?_

"Of course. See you Friday. Bye Mum."

She cut the call and placed the phone back in her bag before resting her head in her hands with her elbows on the table.

"I couldn't tell her," she said. "I couldn't do that to her. Let her be happy for the moment."

Constance looked at her, wondering at the relationship she shared with her mother, the obvious unspoken closeness between them. Constance herself had never had a particularly affectionate relationship with her parents, and she always found it intriguing to witness the different bonds that other women had with their mothers. She didn't regret her childhood, she never would, but comparing herself to Della, perhaps she was a little envious of the ease with which both women could express their feelings.

"After all," said Della eventually, straightening again. "I might yet save the world with some hitherto unknown about power."

Constance cleared her throat, cursing inwardly when the action caused her temples to throb painfully.

"Actually, on that subject, I have made a discovery."

Della tilted her head on one side in curiosity.

"The reason that the Foster's effect is so powerful towards you is your lack of magical ability. You are something of a magical anomaly in this world. As a Liaison, theoretically your natural talent should be through the roof, but, for whatever reason, it is not, and this creates a void of sorts, a void that the Foster's is determined to fill with whatever magical calamity it sees fit at the time."

Della nodded.

"Basically, I'm just plain weird." She shrugged. "Oh well. My life can't exactly get any stranger at the moment so I might as well accept that." She paused and narrowed her eyes again, watching Constance's feeble attempts to soothe her painful head with her even more painful hands. "You got a headache? Here, I think I've got some paracetamol..."

She rummaged around in her handbag, turning out so many items that if Constance hadn't known better, she would have said that it had been magically tampered with in order to fit everything. She shook her head and sighed, throwing the items back haphazardly.

"No such luck I'm afraid." She once again regarded Constance with her head on one side. "You know, if you relieved the pressure on your scalp a bit, that would certainly help."

Constance's hand went to the braided knot of hair on the top of her head. It was heavy, she could always feel that, and at that point in time she could feel the pressure even more acutely. Della was suggesting that she took her hair down. Constance shook her head. It wasn't _right_. She only wore her hair down on special occasions – ceremonies for instance, and of course the hallowe'en celebrations. She couldn't hope to command the respect and authority from the girls that she did on a daily basis if she did not have the rigid and austere physical appearance to match her temperament. Della raised an eyebrow and once again, Constance reminded herself that this young woman was not a pupil and that she had no reason to maintain her formidable facade around her. With a sigh, she reached up to pull the pins from her hair, unable to quite quell the feeling of sacrilege despite desperately wanting the respite from pain that such an action would occasion. Pain coursed through her fingers on touching the cold metal, and she gasped, dropping her hands to her lap and clasping them together tightly.

"Amelia told me what happened to your fingers," Della said quietly, getting up and moving around the table. "Here, let me."

Constance immediately stiffened as she felt Della's hands invade her personal space, deftly pulling out the pins and unthreading the braid as it cascaded down her back. The action took a matter of seconds, but Constance only felt comfortable enough to unclench her muscles once Della was back in her own seat. She had never let anyone come near her hair before, the proximity to her neck made her feel far too vulnerable for her liking. But, she had to admit, the tension headache had eased wonderfully, and she was certain that she wouldn't have been able to do it herself.

"You have so much hair," Della murmured in awe. "I wish I could persuade mine to grow that long. It reaches my shoulders and gives up the ghost. If I were you I'd wear it down all the time, show it off. I take it you don't?"

Constance sighed and shook her head.

"Practical reasons, mostly. When one teaches potions, it would not do to have one's hair catching alight in the middle of the class."

Della gave a snort of laughter, and Constance fell to thinking. Despite so often thinking of her hair as a nuisance in that light, she had never felt any desire to cut it, although she didn't know why. Perhaps she was more subconsciously attached to the carefree days of her childhood than she liked to admit, and the notions of being rescued, Rapunzel-style, from the tower by the handsome prince had not quite died. She shrugged inwardly, resolving never to know.

Presently the comfortable silence was broken by Della's stomach.

"Sorry." She blushed. "I haven't eaten since breakfast."

"I think it's time for dinner anyway," said Constance. "Even in a crisis, it's good to keep some semblance of routine for the girls." She paused. "Do you know your way to the kitchens?"

Della shook her head.

"On my whistle-stop self-guided tour of the castle earlier, that was the one place that I managed to miss."

"I'll show you then."

They left the dark dungeon and made their way towards the kitchens, finding most of the castle's occupants there already. The buzz of chatter died immediately as Constance entered the warm room, and was replaced by an awed murmur and several sideways glances from the girls. Constance realised that her hair was still loose over her shoulders, and no doubt her pupils were surmising as to the special occasion.

"Never mind that," she heard Mildred say to Maud. "Tell her what you found out!"

Maud stood nervously and made her way round the long table to her form-mistress, holding several leaves of paper.

"Della, Miss Hardbroom, we think we've found the answer..."

* * *

**Note2: ** Dun dun dun! What is the answer? All will be revealed soon enough....

*By now you should really know what I'm going to say...*


	16. Chapter 16

**Note: **Firstly and foremost, thanks for waiting! I'm sorry this one took so comparatively long: I've been feeling under the weather, I've had writer's block, and then to top it all Jonathan Crane invaded my noggin and gave me a sudden obsession with villains wearing pullovers. (Translation: I watched Batman Begins and the Dark Knight a couple days ago, and I really, really wanted to work a Batman reference into Inferno. It is not in this chapter, but I know where it will be....)

* * *

**Inferno**

**Sixteen**

They were once more back in the staffroom, the same party as before with the addition of Maud and a very old, very heavy book that Amelia recognised as one of the ones that she kept hidden away behind her desk as much as possible, if only for fear of one of the girls causing herself an injury by dropping the volume on her feet and breaking several toes. Another new accumulation was the many pizza boxes that were piled up in the centre of the table. Once Amelia had been informed that Maud had made a serious discovery, she thought it best to reconvene in the staffroom, and Mrs Tapioca had obliged by sending their dinner up to them there. Amelia cleared her throat to gather everyone's attention and cast a brief glance around the table to determine the ease of relationships between the room's various occupants. Algernon was looking suitably forlorn and abashed in consequence of his earlier slip but Della was seeming increasingly happier for her outburst and the conversations that had followed. No one had enquired as to what exactly had passed between her and her father in the courtyard just a few short hours previous, but both seemed to be more comfortable in each other's presence, and Amelia felt justified in believing that they had reached a new understanding and respect. Nevertheless, the last vestiges of fear were still visible on her too-pale face, and her entire posture spoke of nervous tension. Finally Amelia looked to Constance, always acutely aware of her deputy's wellbeing as time wore on. Her hair was still hanging loose around her shoulders, a sign that something was wrong in itself, and the occasional grimaces of pain brought about by moving her fingers were becoming rather more frequent than Amelia liked to see.

"Now, Maud, what is it that you've discovered?" she began.

Maud opened the book to where a piece of tattered string marked her place.

"It was a lot easier once we knew what we were looking for," she explained. "The Liaison is mentioned quite a few times in various books in the library, but mostly they just talk about the amazing power and the famous historical Liaisons. However, we found something interesting in this book here." Maud adjusted her glasses and began to read aloud. "The first thing that a Liaison must think about is concealment and protection, for their rarity and power makes them prime targets for all manner of unsavoury dealings. Indeed, protection is built into the very foundations of a Liaison's biology; their power is not evident from birth. In fact, this natural protection may even go so far as to manifest itself in a seeming lack of magic and spell-casting ability altogether."

Everyone's eyes turned automatically to Della.

"That's all very well," she said, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of everyone's gazes, "but in all fairness we knew that already."

"Oh there's more, don't worry." Maud cleared her throat and continued to read. "The Liaison's dormant magic is awakened by the acceptance of his or her parents of the Liaison state." She paused, looking around the room for the opinions of the others.

"So, are you saying that if Della's parents accept her as a Liaison, she'll be able to cast spells?" asked Algernon.

"Yes!" exclaimed Mildred, whilst Constance shook her head with a small 'no' at the same time. Amelia turned to the potions-mistress, alarmed.

"It doesn't necessarily mean that she will be able to _perform_ magic," Constance stressed. "It just means that she will _have_ magic."

Amelia opened her mouth to express her confusion, but Constance carried on her explanation.

"We all have magic. It's what makes us show up on the Heritage as silver. And, as trained witches and wizards, we all have the ability to perform magic spells. But the two things are different. Inherent magic is raw, unchannelled, uncontrollable. It just _is_."

Amelia watched Constance carefully as she continued her description of the phenomenon that was inherent magic, seeing the way her eyes shone and the corners of her mouth turned up in a small almost-smile, making her whole face light up for a moment as she spoke of something that was her life, her passion. For a few seconds, Amelia thought that perhaps the visible pain that had graced her countenance had lifted somewhat.

"In effect, it means that Della will not be affected by Foster's anymore. And, if she has inherent magic, then it is more than likely that she will have the necessary magical powers required to bend that inherent magic to her will; in effect to perform magic spells"

Della let out a thankful breath, allowing her shoulders to drop slightly from their tensed position.

"Well thank the lord for small mercies," she said with a wry smile. "Getting rid of the blessed Foster's is enough for me." She paused then, her lips twitching slightly as she tried to formulate her next statement. "But I can't," she said. "I can't be accepted as a Liaison by both my parents. My mother is dead."

The room fell silent, this unavoidable statement of fact shaking them all.

"Besides," Della continued, evidently feeling the need to continue her explication and fill the awful void in the staffroom, despite the fact her voice was shaking. "I know from... previous conversation," here she looked at Egbert, "that my parents did... accept me. That I wasn't abandoned. So theoretically, I should have this inherent magic already."

The still silence continued until Egbert shook his head slowly.

"We never accepted you as a Liaison. As a daughter, we loved you dearly. We never thought of you as a Liaison... _I_ never thought of you as a Liaison until today. We thought it would be safer that way. But, I have accepted you for what you truly are." He smiled weakly. "You are a Liaison, Della, and there is no sense to deny that fact anymore." He sighed. "If only Isabella were here to say the same."

Amelia regarded him closely; he obviously missed the woman who had been the love of his life. She shook her head imperceptibly, amazed at how her preconceived notions could have been so wrong, could have changed so much in the space of a day. The arrogant, pompous, sexist Chief Wizard was not only capable of love, but of a love so strong... Amelia was shaken from her train of thought by Maud's happy exclamation.

"Here," she said, her finger pointing to something in the index and then quickly flicking back through the pages before reading aloud again. "With all matters of magic requiring the acceptance of a specific party, if the said party is incapacitated before acceptance can be given, the power of acceptance passes to the next related generation."

"The next related generation," repeated Imogen. "That would be Isabella's children and nieces." She looked at Della. "Well, her nieces."

Of course, Amelia thought. Inheriting the right to accept just like various other powers are passed down through the ages. Isabella's nieces... Amelia's blood ran cold as she remembered the look on Ethel's face when she found out that she had an unknown about cousin. Would she be willing to accept Della as both a blood relation and a Liaison? Amelia was certain, that since raw magic was inextricably involved, that it would not do for Ethel merely to say 'you are my cousin and you are a Liaison'. She would have to mean it.

"Where is Ethel?" she said. "Someone needs to tell her the situation."

No-one spoke. No-one wanted to volunteer themselves for such a delicate operation. Davina squeaked, stood, and ran for the cupboard, causing Amelia to sigh inwardly. They had only managed to persuade her to emerge less than an hour previous, and now she was back in there again, once more running from the world's problems. Amelia had never thought of her oldest friend's little foibles with anything other than kindness and exasperation before, but now, now she wished that they could all have it as easy as Davina, that they could all curl up next to the exercise books, hum to themselves and pretend that none of it was happening.

"I'll go," said Constance quietly. She stood up with grim purpose, folded her arms across her chest and vanished before rematerialising almost instantly, gasping for breath and clutching the table for support.

"Constance..." Amelia began, but her deputy had straightened once more and had regained her composure with a small shiver.

"The pain had been easing," she muttered, more to herself than to her superior. "I forgot how much it increases when I cast."

"Constance, maybe you should sit this one out, go for a lie down or something," suggested Imogen. Amelia didn't need to see Constance's face to know the reaction to that, and the next thing she heard was the door closing. It did not exactly slam shut, but it was much more forceful than the usual soft click that sounded whenever someone left the room in a peaceable mood. She sighed and closed her eyes momentarily before opening them again, aware of all the eyes in the staffroom on her. She needed to think, desperately needed to think, plan, and work things through in her mind. There was so much to be done, and they had little over a day to do it in. And, after the exploits of the previous night, she was certain that more than one of the girls and staff was going to crash and burn before the hour of reckoning next day. She made her excuses and headed for her study, where she could engage freely in contemplation, settling herself in the comfortable chair behind her desk before planting her head in her hands with a groan.

There was so much to worry about. Amelia found herself thinking, not for the first time, that it really might simply be easier for her to hand over the school to Agatha, like her original plan before Della's dramatic entrance into the equation. She could not accuse the Liaison's presence of creating more problems than good, but at the same time, her lack of ability had complicated issues no end. If they had found her calmly in her bookshop with the combined power of Morgana and Merlin under her belt, then they would be happily – well, happily was probably stretching it slightly – waiting for Agatha's return, knowing that they had a virtually foolproof secret weapon. As it was, every problem seemed to beget a further problem, they were simply dragging themselves further into a great big magical turmoil, and time was most definitely running out.

Amelia thought of her girls in the kitchens eating dinner; she had seen them briefly earlier. They were all pale, nervous, with the dark circles of tiredness forming under their eyes. If there was going to be a confrontation with Agatha on the morrow, and it was looking increasingly likely that there would be, she wanted all of her pupils to be alert and ready to take on everything that could possibly be thrown their way, even if by some miracle Della had learned to control her inherent magic, if by some miracle they had awakened that magic in the first place, and even if they had Constance's fighting power on their side. Constance... Amelia sighed heavily. She was scared for her deputy, more than scared. This was a terrifying unknown that they were dealing with, this obvious damage to her hands, and it had affected them more than either witch liked to admit. Amelia could tell that it was affecting her mentally as well, breaking down her resolve and making her doubt herself. She could tell from the way that Constance would cast sparks whenever she thought no-one was looking, checking to make sure that her magic was still there, still intact, even though it was plain to see that the more she cast, the more pain she felt. Amelia felt so _helpless_, wishing that she could do something, anything, that would alleviate the younger witch's suffering.

The sound of running footsteps in the corridor outside dragged Amelia sharply from her thoughts and placed her back into harsh reality. The door burst open and Algernon and Ethel entered the room, both panting and the latter as white as a sheet.

"Miss Cackle," Ethel said, her voice trembling as her body shook like a leaf. "Come quickly! It's Miss Hardbroom!"

Amelia's blood ran cold as she raced out of the office after them, dreading what she was about to see...

* * *

**Note2: ***Kimmeth cackles evilly. Hell, it's not my fault, I've been corrupted by too many Batman villains in a short space of time!*

Dun dun dun! What's happened? Hopefully you won't have to wait too long to find out...


	17. Chapter 17

**Note: **Ok, sorry for the wait - I've had a hella lot of work, plus writer's block, plus my computer dying on me this morning. Everything is sussed now though, so enjoy!

* * *

**Inferno**

**Seventeen**

Ethel could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she followed Miss Cackle and Mr Rowan-Webb down the corridors towards where Miss Hardbroom had fallen, and she prayed that she wasn't going to have another panic attack. Whilst they might often ridicule Miss Bat for her panic attacks, Ethel had not realised just how frightening they could be until a few minutes ago. Stepping out into the inner courtyard she had looked up at the bleak darkness that was the Shield, and she felt its presence weighing so heavily on her mind that it was crushing her physically, almost. And then, the claustrophobia had set in. She had never suffered it before in her life, and she couldn't cope, hyperventilating and scared and having no idea what to do. She had been like that when Miss Hardbroom had found her, on the verge of fainting from light-headedness, breathing so fast that her lungs couldn't keep up with her, and as her teacher had tried to calm her down, so her panic had increased proportionately and irrationally, the events of the previous day spinning through her head on constant replay. She had heard her teacher's voice raise in worry, heard her begin to cast a spell and then the next thing she knew, Ethel could breathe again, and Miss Hardbroom was on the floor, passed out, tongues of flame dancing around her casting fingers...

Ethel hung back slightly as Miss Cackle rounded the corner into the courtyard with a near hysterical cry of 'Constance!' She still felt faint, and a horrible feeling of guilt was creeping up on her, the knowledge that if she had been able to hold it together like a Hallow should, then Miss Hardbroom would not have had to cast a spell to calm her, and she would not have suffered as a result. The Chief Wizard was already there – the two wizards had been the first people that Ethel had come across when she had run for assistance – and he was casting spells to try and put out the flames, but it was obviously to no avail. Ethel peered around for a closer look, taking deep breaths to calm herself. Miss Cackle was obviously barely keeping it together, Mr Rowan-Webb was as white as a sheet, but the scariest part of the entire tableau was the look of desperation on each face. No-one had any idea what they should do, nor how they should go about it. The three adults were all talking over each other, none of their plans or tentative suggestions making any sense. Ethel approached the scene and knelt slowly on the ground beside Miss Cackle and her form-mistress.

"Miss Hardbroom," she said quietly, aware of how much her voice was shaking and also of how she had to keep herself together to do something. She could faint once Miss Hardbroom was conscious again. "Miss, can you hear me?"

The deputy head twitched slightly and spoke, unnoticed by the panicked adults talking over her.

"The pain is subsiding," she whispered, barely audible above a breath, and Ethel saw that the flickering flames had died to merely smoke and the occasional spark. "Just give me a few moments." Ethel could tell that she was speaking through a tightly-clenched jaw, and she saw the glistening of tears wetting her lashes and threatening to trickle down her cheeks. That shook Ethel perhaps more than the events of the entire rest of the day, traumatic as they had been. No-one had ever seen Miss Hardbroom cry, much less so from pain. It was something that they never really associated with her authoritative presence; the ability to cry and feel pain made her seem so much more human, rather than an invincible entity that just _was_.

"Miss Cackle," said Ethel. "She's waking up."

The last tendrils of smoke wafted away into the evening air as Miss Hardbroom opened her eyes, instinctively blinking and reaching for a handkerchief to remove the telltale traces of wetness that pooled under her lids.

"Oh Constance," said Miss Cackle, the relief in her voice so plain to hear that Ethel half-expected her to throw her arms around the potions teacher in a hug. "Please don't do that again."

"I don't plan to," muttered Miss Hardbroom, but it was with none of her usual dry sarcasm, just tiredness.

"Perhaps we can safely say that it would be a good idea for you to abstain from casting for the foreseeable future, Constance?" suggested the Chief Wizard.

"What?" Miss Hardbroom looked as appalled as she could lying horizontal before manoeuvring herself, with Miss Cackle's help, into a sitting position, giving her glare slightly more force.

"If you're going to faint every time you cast a spell..." Mr Rowan-Webb began, but Miss Hardbroom cut him off.

"I can assure you, Mr Rowan-Webb, that it is only the most complex enchantments that have such an adverse effect on me," she said coldly, and Ethel managed a weak smile, confident that her form-mistress was almost back to normal. "I have no intention of performing the Panic Relief spell, nor of lifting the Shield, anytime soon. Now Ethel, I did come and find you with something specific in mind."

"Constance," Miss Cackle pleaded as she stood. "It can wait, I'll do it, you go and have a lie down."

"No Headmistress, I shall continue my responsibility." Under her breath, out of Miss Cackle's earshot, Ethel thought she heard Miss Hardbroom murmur 'and if I lie down there's no guarantee I'll get up again'. She shook it off, pretending to her already half-crazed-with-panic imagination that she had been hearing things, however unlikely she knew that to be, and followed her form-mistress into one of the empty classrooms, unable to keep herself from noticing how she moved carefully, each step measured and precise, her hands slightly out in front of her to break her fall should she stumble. Once they reached the room, Ethel closed the door quietly behind her and found that Miss Hardbroom had already sunk gratefully into a chair. Ethel sat down opposite her in silence.

"Are you alright, Ethel?" she asked, her voice serious. "I meant it when I said that I had no intention of performing Panic Relief again very soon." She sighed and ran a tongue quickly over her lips in what Ethel could almost define as a nervous gesture.

"I'm fine," Ethel lied through her teeth. She wasn't fine, she was petrified, and she hid her shaking hands under the desk so that her teacher wouldn't see them and pass comment. But, at the same time, she felt composed enough not to have another panic attack. "What did you need to talk to me about?"

"Ethel, you are, I know, aware that your aunt Isabella was Della Spinder's mother."

Ethel nodded calmly, still trying to get her head around the situation. It seemed too surreal to believe and yet, somehow, Ethel reflected, she had always known. She had always guessed that there was something being hidden, that there were skeletons in her aunt's closet that never saw the light of day, that something was being hushed up beneath the angelic picture of her deceased aunt. Her aunt Isadora would occasionally let something slip, the significance of which Ethel had always, until now, shrugged off as the ramblings of a mid-life crisis witch.

"Well, in order to awaken Della's innate magic, she must be accepted by both her parents."

"I know," murmured Ethel. She had been in the library with them when Maud had found the passage in the book. "But Isabella is dead." She took a deep breath and looked her form-mistress in the eye. "I suppose, the reason you're saying all this, is because I have to take her place."

Miss Hardbroom nodded.

"You would have to accept Della as being your blood cousin, and a Liaison to boot."

"I know." Ethel sighed. In theory, she had no problem with the idea, it just seemed so... sudden. "It's just a little bit too much to take in at the moment, knowing that this could be the difference between life and death." She felt her breathing begin to quicken and she forced herself to calm down under Miss Hardbroom's reproving gaze. "I mean, I haven't even met this person yet."

The teacher nodded, almost knowingly.

"Then perhaps it's time you were better acquainted with your unexpected family addition," she said, rising carefully and beginning to lead the way out of the room, pausing in the doorway, giving Ethel the choice of whether to follow or not. Ethel stood as well and together they walked towards the staffroom.

"What's she like?" Ethel asked suddenly. The fact that Della and Miss Hardbroom had shared a private conversation in the dungeons was common knowledge among the girls, and Ethel found herself staring at her form-mistress's still-loose hair. She was almost getting used to the sight, although it did seem strange to see her like that but without her pointed hat. Either Della had a death wish, or Miss Hardbroom had been more affected by Agatha's spells than they'd first thought.

"She's..." Miss Hardbroom paused to think of the right word. "She's _normal_. I am sure that's the only way to describe her. She seems sensible, perfectly ordinary. I think you'll like her."

They had reached the staffroom by this point, and Miss Hardbroom entered, Ethel half a step behind. She took in the room's occupants as Miss Bat fluttered over to the potions teacher with exclamations of worry, seeking confirmation of her wellbeing. Ethel looked at Della, seeing her properly for the first time, rather than the brief glimpses that she had been afforded throughout the day. She didn't particularly look like Aunt Isadora, she reflected, and since she and Isabella had been twins, it seemed natural to assume that any familial resemblance would carry through.

"You must be Ethel," she mouthed, knowing she wouldn't be heard over the altercation of the two teachers in the doorway, one professing that she was perfectly alright thank you very much and the other exclaiming that she couldn't possibly have fainted twice in the same day and be 'perfectly alright'. Ethel nodded and moved instinctively to sit down on the chair that Della patted beside her.

"I suppose I should formally introduce myself," she said quietly as the girl sat. "I'm Della, the long-lost cousin you never knew you had." She smiled, and for a moment Ethel could see Isabella's picture from the many photographs in the house ghost over her features. "Shall we go somewhere quieter?" She nodded towards the teachers still talking over each other, Miss Drill having joined in the debate, although Ethel could not be quite sure whose side she was on. She nodded her assent and together they rose and made their way through the door, squeezing past the other women with a quick apology and escaping into the cool air of the cloistered corridors, walking in no particular direction. Della shoved her hands deep into her coat pockets.

"This is just as bewildering for me as it is you," she said. "I didn't know anything about my birth family until this morning. Suddenly I've got not only the family I've grown up with, but a father and a cousin as well."

"Two cousins, actually." Ethel grinned. "I have a younger sister. Not to mention the entire rest of my extended family."

"Cripes, buying Christmas presents is going to be a nightmare from now on, isn't it? Can I get away with giving you all something rubbish from Poundland?"

Ethel laughed, and looked out at the dark sky in the courtyard. She knew that it would be dark outside the Shield anyway, but the complete lack of starlight still made her feel uneasy, and she waited for the involuntary tight feeling in her chest that signalled oncoming panic. She turned to Della, leaning back easily on the balustrade and gazing up at the castle ceiling. She wasn't trying to be anything that she wasn't, Ethel reflected. She was just trying to continue living her life in the best way she could, surrounded by chaos everywhere she turned. Chaos... Ethel felt her breathing hitch and begin to quicken. She closed her eyes and tried not to panic – she was a Hallow for goodness' sake, two panic attacks in the space of half an hour was not something that Hallows _did_ – before she felt a soft touch on her shoulder.

"Here." Della was holding out a paper bag, no doubt from somewhere in the depths of her handbag. "Breathe into that."

Ethel did so, focussing on breathing slower.

"My mum's claustrophobic," Della explained absentmindedly. "Always pays to be prepared." She removed a twist of sweets from her coat pocket and offered to Ethel once she had calmed down enough to breathe regularly.

"Want one?" she asked, sucking on her own sweet. Mint imperials, Ethel's favourite. She accepted gladly, and they perched on the balustrade together in a companionable silence for a while, occasionally passing comment on the possible events going on in the staffroom before Ethel fell to thinking. Perhaps it wouldn't be so hard to accept Della as a cousin and a Liaison after all.

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**Note2: **Thanks for reading! How about a review to go with it? *Nudge.*

**Coming up:** Algernon is introduced to poker as I write a slightly lighter-hearted chapter as relief from the heavy thinking. Believe me, Della carries the world and his dog around in that handbag of hers... It's possibly the only personality trait that she and I share.


	18. Chapter 18

**Note: **A game of poker is played in this chapter. Now, I only know how to play one version of poker, and I am not even sure if it is an official variant, but it is the only one I know, and therefore it is the one described herein. It's not essential to the plot, so don't worry about it, I just thought I'd let people know.

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**Inferno**

**Eighteen**

It had just gone midnight, and the candles in the staffroom were burning low. They had, Imogen reflected, less than a day till 'zero hour'. They had less than a day to work out a battle plan and think of a way to defeat Agatha's awesome new power. True, they had achieved a remarkable amount in the last day, but now things seemed to be slowing. Their rampant wave of discovery was coming into the shore, and there were still missing pieces.

Amelia had managed to persuade the girls to go to bed remarkably easily – however much they might deny it, they were most definitely tired from their long day – but whether any of them would be able to actually sleep was a completely different matter. Imogen had already counted six sets of footsteps pattering along the corridor above her. It was quieter than this on a normal night, when there were four times the number of girls in the school. Imogen yawned, reflecting that she should probably turn in herself, but she knew that it would be pointless at the moment. She would never sleep with something like this on her mind. Normally, in these sort of situations, she would go out for a brief walk around the castle perimeters, but obviously the Shield prevented such an occurrence tonight. She needed something, anything, to distract her before she could go to bed with any hope of gleaning a moment's rest.

She looked around at the other occupants of the staffroom. Davina was sitting quietly in her easy chair in the corner, humming a little made-up tune to herself and picking at loose threads on the lace fingerless gloves that she never seemed to be without. Imogen wondered idly if there was some sort of significance to them. Algernon was sitting opposite her, staring into the middle distance, his mind obviously several miles away. No doubt it was back next to his beloved river, eating crumpets and sharing the deepest secrets of wizardry with Merlin. Della was sat at the foot of the table, her eyes flickering all over the room, twisting the intricate Celtic knot pendant that she wore round her fingers. Imogen could not deny that she had most certainly relaxed since she had first arrived at Cackle's that morning, but there was still some inherent nervous tension sitting in her slightly furrowed brow and constantly moving eyes.

Amelia and Egbert were further down the hall in her office, discussing possible strategies, but Imogen knew that they weren't getting very far. Ethel had yet to accept Della, although they were making considerable progress towards reaching a good working understanding. Imogen could hardly blame the poor girl, it was a daunting enough prospect in itself, suddenly accepting a new family member, much less one who had the potential to save them all from devastation if everything went according to plan. Imogen snorted. According to plan, what a comical phrase in the circumstances. What had gone according to plan in the last twenty-four hours? There had been no plan, just a wing and a prayer.

Constance was in bed. Amelia had forced her, using all her weight as headmistress, to take a very mild sleeping potion and get a couple of hours at least. Constance had gone grumbling, ungrateful, but Amelia had threatened her with everything in her power, and the unwilling deputy had eventually had to relent. Judging by the way she was holding her hands – casting fingers clawed as if they were arthritic – she was probably thinking, however much she didn't want to, that sleep would be a welcome respite from pain for a few brief hours. Imogen sighed. Constance was always one for insisting that there was nothing wrong, and brushing off illness and injuries, but at about eleven o'clock she had finally given in and taken pain relief potions. Imogen could not shake off the haunted look of desperation in her colleague's eyes when nothing seemed to alleviate her suffering.

Suddenly, Della brought her hands down hard on the table and regarded the others in the room with a fixed expression.

"Poker," she said, before delving into her hand bag and pulling out a small tin. Out of the tin came a set of elaborately decorated circular playing cards, which she shuffled deftly. "Who's in?"

"Poker!" exclaimed Davina, nearly tripping over her own feet in her rush to get to the table and receive the cards that Della was now dealing. "What's the ante?"

"Poker," said Algernon warily. "I remember playing that with Egbert back in the day. Isn't that the one where you have to take your clothes off?"

Imogen and Della could not help but burst into simultaneous fits of laughter, Imogen wondering what on Earth the wizards got up to at their council meetings before deciding that she probably didn't want to know.

"No, Algernon, that is only one very specific variant of poker," Della explained once she had managed to compose herself. "And not the one that we're going to play. Imogen, are you in?"

Imogen nodded. She hadn't played poker since she was at university, and seeing as though most of those times were under the influence of a little too much to drink, she felt justified in not quite remembering how to play. Besides, in the absence of fresh forest air, the game was as good a distraction as any.

"I've got no money, though," she warned. "And whilst I've gathered that you store away a lot of things in that bag of yours, I do doubt that a full set of Texas Hold 'Em chips is something you'd carry around on the off-chance."

"Well, now you mention it..." Della grinned. "No, we'll just bet anything that comes into our heads. On a school trip in the sixth form we bet random pieces of German architecture. I bet you never knew that technically, I own the Brandenburg Gate?" She had finished dealing the cards at this point and set the remainder of the deck aside. "Right ladies, and gentleman, this is five-card draw poker. You each have five cards, and the person with the best hand wins. You can discard up to three cards and draw new ones in the hope of bettering your hand. Now, let the gambling begin... I bet Buckingham Palace."

Some time later, Davina had won not only Buckingham Palace, but also a French policeman, Algernon's second best sofa, a lifetime's supply of socks, a golfing umbrella, Della's brother Nick's moped, an all-expenses paid weekend away in Totnes, and a random man called Neville. Imogen's jaw was beginning to ache from laughing so much. To think that they had started the day in such a state of panic and terror, and they were ending it with such hilarity. It seemed almost sacrilegious, to be enjoying themselves like this when they were in such a vulnerable state, and in less than twenty-four hours they might never see the light of day again.

Della caught Imogen's ponderous expression.

"Another hand?" she asked. "It's not as if we've got anything else to do, and it passes the time."

Just then, there was a soft knock at the door, and it edged open with a creak. Ethel peered around the frame, her face pinched and worried.

"Oh," she said quietly on seeing that they were the only occupants of the room. "Where are Miss Cackle and Miss Hardbroom?" she asked.

"Miss Cackle is in her office," said Imogen. "Miss Hardbroom is asleep."

"We hope," murmured Davina. "Although I'm not sure if she still will be after the racket we've been making."

Imogen ignored her and focussed on Ethel.

"What's the matter, Ethel?" she asked. "Is there a problem?"

"No, no, there's no problem." Ethel came into the room fully and stood staring around the room, her eyes finally coming to rest on Della. "I was just going to say... I haven't been able to sleep, and I've been thinking... I accept Della." She took a deep breath, and Imogen saw that, for all Ethel's brilliance and bravado, she was still just a young girl like the rest of the students, on the cusp of adulthood and scared of the responsibilities that it entailed. "Della, you are my cousin, and you are a Liaison."

There was silence in the room; no visible change had taken place.

"Has it worked?" asked Algernon tentatively, taking his glasses off and polishing them with one end of his green woollen scarf, as if that would enable him to see any alterations more clearly.

"I don't know," said Della. "I don't feel any different, but then again, am I meant to?" She shrugged. "I suppose there's only one way to find out." She looked at Davina, who was absently shuffling the circular cards around the table. It took several seconds before she realised that all eyes in the room were fixed pointedly on her.

"Yes?" she said, oblivious.

"Cast a spell, Davina," said Della, a note of friendly exasperation apparent in her voice. "See if the Foster's is still hanging around."

"Oh..." Davina paused. "Which one should I cast?"

"Well, any spell that you've cast near me and had backfire once is probably likely to backfire again. Things have a tendency to repeat. I know that it always takes me two attempts to get my toaster to work because something magical causes it to chew up the toast and spit it out first time round. Either that, or I simply have a toaster with an attitude problem."

Algernon nodded in agreement.

"On the face of it, Foster's is random, but sometimes you can see patterns emerging in when it will and won't appear."

"Oh." She pulled the sugar bowl from the unused tea set towards her and cast a spell for more sugar. A perfect pile of brown and white sugar lumps appeared in the bowl. There was no sign of any overflow, no sign of the Foster's having made an appearance.

"Do you think that means it's worked?" asked Ethel cautiously.

"I think it more than likely."

Davina gave a small shriek at the new voice that had entered the room, and everyone turned sharply to see Constance standing in the doorway, wrapped in her dressing gown and looking tired but definitely awake.

"Did we wake you with our raucous poker tournament?" Della asked pleasantly. Constance shook her head.

"No, the sleeping potion wore off. It was milder than I lead Amelia to believe." She turned to Ethel and gave a brief but undoubtedly genuine smile. "Thank you Ethel. I know it wasn't easy for you. But thank you for doing what you've done."

Ethel nodded before yawning widely, unable to hide it behind her hands.

"I think you'll probably sleep better for it," said Algernon with a laugh, before yawning himself. "I think I had probably best get off too if I'm going to be of any use whatsoever tomorrow. Not that I've really done much today." He sighed. "But I'm here if needed. Congratulations on your cleansweep, Miss Bat." He bowed low to Davina and left the room. Ethel paused for a few moments before following, and Della rushed after her in a split second, crying 'wait!'

Imogen was left alone with Davina and Constance, the latter sitting down in Della's vacated seat.

"So this is it," she said. "The next stage is complete. We've awakened Della's inherent magic. Now all that remains to be seen is whether or not she can control it." Constance sighed, leaning her no doubt still-fuzzy head on one hand and tracing the patterns on the back of the cards with a fingernail idly. Her hands didn't look as afflicted as they had done a couple of hours previous, they had unstiffened, and it obviously didn't hurt her quite as much to touch. Imogen wondered how long it would be before the effects of the sedative wore off and she was back to how she had been before, but pushed that dark thought to the back of her mind.

"Constance," Davina began, "what happens if she can't perform magic?"

The silence that followed Davina's question was all-encompassing.

"I don't know, Davina. I honestly don't know. And even if she can control her power, I highly doubt that we will be able to train her in magical combat adequately enough to take on the adversary that we face at midnight."

The thought had been on all three of their minds, Imogen could tell. It was just frightening to have it spoken aloud.

The three teachers looked at each other as Della re-entered the room and sat down in Algernon's chair.

"So," the younger woman said. "Where do we go from here?"

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**Note2: **Where indeed?

There is an alternative ending to this chapter. It is funny, but very out-of-character, which is why it is funny. If you would like to see it, say so in a review *nudge* and I will send it on in a PM or review reply.

**Coming up on Inferno 19: **Ethel does origami, Della gets exasperated and Kimmeth FINALLY gets her Batman reference in.


	19. Chapter 19

**Note: ***Kimmeth does a little dance because she finally managed to get her Batman reference in. Also, this story has the most reviews out of all of mine. Yays! I love you reviewers!*

Ok, if anyone can tell me the reference **without **looking at the quotes page on IMDB for 'The Dark Knight', you will get virtual cookies.

(Except NCD. Who already knows what it is...)

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**Inferno**

**Nineteen**

Another day had dawned, not that it made any difference within the walls of the castle. The Shield was still firmly in place, and the light of the day was still barred from entering and providing a touch of bright optimism to the school.

The morning was quiet, eerily so, every room in the castle seeming to be deserted. Since Miss Cackle had given them an update on the situation over breakfast in the kitchens, the girls had been free to do whatever they wished whilst the adults attempted to work out their latest strategy. For most of them, this was congregating in one bedroom and chatting about nothing in particular, pointedly ignoring the darkness outside and steering the conversation firmly away from their current situation.

Mildred had found herself with Maud, Jadu and Ethel in the empty chanting classroom. Miss Cackle had told them that whilst Della's magic had been awakened and she was no longer suffering inherent Foster's, there was still a long way to go, and Ethel had volunteered to give her cousin a crash course in casting spells to see if she had the power to actually perform magic.

They were, the other girls at least, taking it as a given that Della would be able to cast just as they could, but Mildred wasn't quite so sure, and she could tell from the look in Miss Cackle's face on hearing Ethel's offer that the teachers and the wizards weren't quite so sure either. There could be no doubt as to what they were planning whilst Della had her first impromptu spells lesson. They would be trying desperately to think of a backup plan, unwilling to involve the girls as researchers like they had done the previous day for fear of scaring them and killing their feeble hopes.

Ethel had just finished folding a sheet of paper into something that resembled a small boat.

"Why..?" Mildred began, gesturing the boat. "What's the boat for?"

"It's not a boat, it's a hat, honestly Mildred." Ethel rolled her eyes. "And it's for target practice." She turned to Della, who was sitting at the back of the room with her handbag and coat on her lap, looking politely confused and extremely wary in equal measure, reading the mental spell that Ethel had given her to memorise. It was the same one that Miss Hardbroom had been using throughout the day to check that her casting fingers were not too damaged, a simple test of magical ability.

"Now," said Ethel, and Mildred could detect a touch of eagerness in her voice. "If this all goes to plan, sparks should shoot out of your fingers and you'll knock down this little paper hat."

"Boat," intoned Jadu.

"It's a hat!" exclaimed Ethel. "Anyone can see that it would make an awful boat!"

Della eyed the origami boat – Mildred refused to see it as a hat – with suspicion, but stood up and moved to the centre of the room before shrugging and rolling up her sleeves, pointing her fingers and wiggling them a bit before giving up and walking away.

"What's the matter?" asked Ethel, startled.

"Nothing," said Della. She picked up her frockcoat and slipped it on, her rolled up jumper sleeves creating a strange shape around her elbows. "It just doesn't feel right without the witchy coat."

Mildred stifled a snort of laughter. Della took up her casting position again and wiggled her fingers.

"And away we go," she said, casting the spell. Nothing happened. Ethel looked puzzled, and Della cleared her throat and tried again. "And... away... we... go."

Again, nothing happened. Della sighed, walked across the room and knocked the paper boat over with a flick of her finger.

"If you want something doing," she muttered. "You've got to do it yourself."

Ethel, Mildred could see, was stifling an exasperated groan.

"That's not exactly the way I had in mind when I said you'd knock down the paper hat."

Maud shrugged as she set the boat back upright again.

"Can't deny the logic."

"Of course not," said Della, taking up her position once more. "But it doesn't exactly help in the long run. Ok, I'll be good now."

An hour and a half passed with the same result. Eventually Della leaned back heavily against the nearest desk before slumping into the chair behind it, running her fingers through her wavy hair and staring down at the floor. Mildred could see a faint sheen of perspiration on her forehead; she was obviously trying her very hardest, but to no avail.

"I'm sorry girls," she said. "It's just not happening today. Perhaps I don't have the mystical ability to control my magic. I'm sorry."

Ethel opened her mouth to say something, but Maud caught her eye and shook her head. Mildred looked around at the people in the room – Ethel, nervy and agitated, Jadu and Maud, silent and worried, and then Della, the perfect picture of dejection. She was the embodiment of waning hope, and she didn't know what she could say that would reassure the girls. She had done a remarkably good job of trying to remain upbeat and unaffected by what was happening to her, and recovering from her earlier hysterical episodes, but Mildred could see that the circumstances were finally beginning to wear away at her resolve slowly and surely. She didn't know what to say, somehow the suggestion to keep thinking positively and keep trying didn't feel in any way appropriate in the situation.

"We'll have another go after lunch," Mildred said eventually before she made the conscious decision to leave the room and find Miss Cackle. The results of the morning's experimentation would have to be made known sooner or later, and Mildred figured that she might as well be the one to report on their progress, or lack thereof. She placed a friendly hand on Della's shoulder as she passed. Della didn't move from her position, head in hands.

Once she reached the staffroom, Mildred paused for a few moments before knocking, closing her eyes and leaning her forehead against the wood. She had only had a few hours fitful sleep; she had lain awake worrying for most of the night.

Mildred liked her position as head-girl, but sometimes she felt that she could do without the responsibilities that came with it. Much as she despaired at moments like this though, she would never shirk her duties. She knew just how many students were depending on her, and Della as well. For a brief moment, Ethel's pensive face flashed through her mind, and Mildred felt a sudden pang of sympathy for the girl who had always been her arch-nemesis, snorting at the irony that it took the threat of eternal damnation for them to start working on the same side with no repercussions. On top of everything that she had been through in the past day, there was the ever-present thought of Sybil, and the promise that she had made to sister before they had parted. She was anxious to find a solution for Sybil's sake as much as for her own.

Finally, Mildred swallowed her apprehensions and knocked on the door.

"Come in," called Miss Cackle's voice. She sounded tired, Mildred thought, but not particularly desperate or frantic. How much would that demeanour change once Mildred broke her news? She slowly opened the door and entered, making sure that it was fully closed before turning to survey the room. She didn't know who there might be who would overhear her, but she felt the need to ensure that this conversation was as private as possible. The staff and the wizards were looking at her calmly, and Mildred saw Miss Bat poke her head around the door of her cupboard tentatively to hear her tidings. Mildred didn't like to think what dispute had sent her in there in the first place, but she could guarantee that she wouldn't be out for long. They all looked horribly expectant and optimistic, with the exception of Miss Hardbroom. She was sitting at the head of the table, her usual poker-straight posture slumped slightly, and her brow furrowed in a slight grimace of pain. Mildred couldn't see her fingers, and she wondered if she was hiding them beneath the table purposefully. Another thing she noticed was her hair, still down from its usual knot but now in a long French plait. Mildred pondered how long it had taken her before being pulled from her idle daydream by the object of her staring.

"What is it, Mildred?" asked the potions teacher, and in that moment their eyes connected and Mildred knew that Miss Hardbroom could already tell what she was going to say.

"It's Della," she managed to get out. "She doesn't... she can't... It's not working," she finished meekly. She kept her eyes on her form-mistress to avoid seeing the falling faces of the other staff members. Her ears caught the sound of the cupboard doors latching from the inside.

"Well, we did fear as much," said Miss Cackle. "You were right Constance; we are going to require a backup plan."

"I don't understand," said Miss Drill. "If Della has such awesome power from her status as a Liaison, then why can't she use it?"

"The longer a witch goes without using her magic, or without being taught to use her magic, the less likely it is that she will ever be able to use it. Magical power is at its richest when a witch is about twelve to thirteen years old. It's no coincidence that our magical education here at Cackles begins at this age. Della is twenty-three. She's missed the prime period of her life for beginning to learn magic by a good ten years." Miss Hardbroom sighed and her mouth twitched as if a spasm of pain had run through her.

"So what can we do?" Miss Cackle asked. Mildred turned and faced her headmistress, seeing the panic behind the tiredness in her eyes. No-one could answer the question. So much power, so much potential, and yet there was no way to channel it...

The idea hit Mildred so suddenly it almost felt as if she had been struck physically by some unseen force.

"Is there any way of channelling Della's magic into someone else? I mean, of someone else being able to use her power?" Miss Cackle looked at her incredulously, and Mildred pushed on to explain her theory. "I was just thinking of when Miss Bat and I left the school yesterday morning, Miss Hardbroom transferred some of the weight of the Shield over to Miss Cackle. Could we do a similar thing with Della? Transfer the weight of her power to someone else?"

The silence in the room was all-encompassing, before Miss Hardbroom gave an exclamation that Mildred realised to be triumph.

"That's it! Oh Mildred, you're cleverer than all of us put together. Yes, it is most definitely possible, tuning to the magic..." her voice dropped to a mutter and it became obvious that she was talking to herself.

"Constance?" began Miss Cackle politely. "Could you please enlighten us a little? We don't understand what you're talking about."

"It is possible for, as Mildred suggested, a witch to channel another witch's magic. It takes a little while, and a little guesswork, but ultimately, it can be done, and it has been proved to work. I could..." Her impassioned speech broke off under Miss Cackle's stern eye. "... _someone _could channel Della's magic, thereby using her own spells but with the sheer force of Della's power behind them. It does take time for a witch to tune into another witch's inherent magic to be able to use it though."

"How long?" asked Algernon, his attention focussed elsewhere, out of the window.

"It depends, sometimes it occurs almost immediately, sometimes it can take hours. Why do you ask?"

Algernon didn't reply, instead beckoning them over to stand with him at the window. Mildred clasped a hand over her mouth as pure fear suddenly rushed through her veins, pooling in the pit of her stomach.

"Good morning Amelia!" called a far-too-familiar voice. "Oh don't worry, I come with no nefarious intent. I simply wanted to reiterate the terms of our little bargain, if you would be so kind as to join me."

Agatha was standing outside the castle, and the blackness of the Shield that encapsulated the school was melting away into the icescape of the ninth circle...

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**Note2: ***Kimmeth hides from the legions of readers who are now threatening her with wooden spoons due to her leaving them on yet another cliffie.*

Erm, aside from that... review, anyone?

**Coming up on Inferno: **Someone gets magically lassoed, someone else nearly gets chopped in half, and Kimmeth's fingers drop off from writing so much.


	20. Chapter 20

**Note: **Ok folks, dig deep for your quickest update ever - just over five hours - because well, I couldn't just leave you in the lurch...

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**Inferno**

**Twenty**

Amelia closed her eyes, her fingers grasping the windowsill so tightly that she was sure there would be indents when she eventually released her vice-grip. What could Agatha possibly want now, at this late stage, with just twelve hours before their final confrontation? She couldn't possibly know about Della, could she? Although, with her newly-garnered near omniscience, Amelia couldn't be sure what her sister might be planning. What if Agatha demanded that they hand Della over? Or asked, mockingly, for a display of the otherworldly powers of the Liaison? Amelia shook her head at the mental image of Della stumbling into the clutches of her evil sister, neither of them to be seen again. What would Della's family say when they found out? What would Egbert do? Surely he wouldn't just stand aside and let Agatha take his daughter from him, but Amelia would not let another of her core fighting force suffer. She was already feeling deep-seated guilt over Constance's injuries, she could not allow anyone to come between her and her twin this time. No one else could get hurt. Especially not Della.

Amelia shook her head as she donned her cloak and hat and left the staffroom silently, walking down the corridors and into the courtyard, standing in front of Walker's Gate with trepidation before hearing footsteps running behind her. Amelia hung her head. She knew instinctively whose footsteps they were, and she wanted to face any person but her.

"Amelia!" Constance's voice rang out over the courtyard, and reluctantly Amelia turned to see her pounding across the flags. "Stop, don't do this alone! You don't know what she's capable of!"

"I do know what she's capable of, Constance, and that is precisely why I have to go alone. She's capable of slowly draining the best witch I know. I will not have you hurt any more than you are already Constance, I'm cursing myself for letting you come with me the first time enough as it is." She looked at her deputy earnestly, pleadingly almost, and the way Constance unconsciously rubbed her casting fingers when reminded of her injury. The taller witch shook her head, the loose ends of her plait swinging wildly behind her. That in itself was evidence of how badly she had been affected; Constance would never leave something half-done, not unless her fingers were paining her so badly that she physically couldn't bear to continue.

"She can hardly do more damage than she's done already," she muttered darkly. She moved forward but Amelia held up a hand to stop her.

"I'm sorry Constance. I have to do this alone."

"No, Amelia!"

Algernon and Egbert arrived on the scene then, bursting into the main courtyard after the deputy head, who continued to advance.

"Constance, I'm warning you, if you don't stand down..." She shook her head. "I don't want to do it Constance, but I cannot allow you to risk your life for me again."

Constance took one more step forward, and Amelia sent a pulse of pressure towards her, pushing her backwards into the arms of the wizards, who caught her and held her back.

"Amelia!" Constance cried, "Amelia, this is madness!"

Amelia could still hear her as she opened the gate and stepped out into the cold, and she forced herself to take a deep breath and not to break down into tears. She had never used offensive magic against any of her staff before, much less her deputy, but this time, with Constance's stubbornness, it had been the only way. The threat of dismissal or other bureaucratic action would have had no effect on the younger witch when there were very probably lives at stake.

"Oh, how touching," said Agatha. "Leaving your little friend behind and coming to face me all alone, so unwilling to sacrifice anyone else for your cause."

Amelia turned to face her sister, feeling the anger rising in her throat and the blood rushing to her face, heat pooling beneath her eyes, indignant rage pouring through her veins.

"Yes," she said. "Yes, I am unwilling to sacrifice innocent magicians to help me deal with the likes of you!"

She wanted to run, she wanted to scream, to fly at her sister, to cause as much pain and torment to her as she had caused to the school, but she knew that she couldn't. Amelia forced herself to think rationally. Not only would such an action be completely overpowered, it would be completely out of character. She could not, _would not_, let Agatha's evil gain such a hold over her as to make her throw away every moral that she stood for: pacifism, compassion, thinking rationally and rejecting revenge for the sake of simple revenge.

"How admirable." Agatha sounded bored. "Well, I shan't keep you away from your precious school and its half-baked inhabitants for longer than necessary, I know that you're simply _dying_ to get back and wait to rot away with them. Tell me Amelia, are your inspirational speeches having any effect in a time of crisis, or are they simply sending everyone to sleep like they normally do?"

Amelia growled under her breath, but she would not give in to her anger.

"I merely came to warn you, dearest sister, that you have only twelve short hours remaining before you make your choice. Unless, of course, you have already decided, and you are willing to sign the school over to me here and now?" Agatha cocked her head on one side, questioning. "It would save an awful lot of time and an awful lot of souls..." She pulled out the knife that Amelia remembered Mildred describing in her dream. "... and it isn't even very painful. Just a drop of blood to sign your life away."

Amelia gasped; in signing the school over to Agatha – still a slim possibility in her mind if all else failed – she would be signing away her own life and soul into the bargain. She closed her gaping mouth and brought her thoughts around to a more rational track. She wasn't going to allow things to degenerate to the stage where she would have to surrender the school, and even if she did, she had accepted long ago that she would take whatever consequences came her way in order to keep her pupils safe.

"So what do you say, Amelia?" asked Agatha pleasantly. "Shall we do a quick deal now, save us all the suspense and agony of waiting? Oh, the fun I shall have when that school is mine." For a moment she seemed distracted by gleeful thoughts of the future, and Amelia wondered momentarily if she should use this moment to strike before thinking better of it. "Those girls won't know what's hit them," she murmured before returning her attention to her appalled sister. "What do you say, Amelia?"

"Never," she breathed, unable to articulate anything above a whisper in her shock. "My girls will never answer to evil like you."

"Tsk tsk Amelia, you are feisty today, a nice change from your usual indecisiveness. There was I, thinking that all you cared about was where the next piece of cheesecake was coming from. I was evidently mistaken. But still, we can't allow this hotheadedness to get too out of hand now, can we? That would be _dreadful_. Time to cool off my dear. I'll see you in twelve hours."

Agatha vanished into a circle of flames, and Amelia tried to move but found herself unable. She was frozen to the spot, completely petrified where she was. She could hear frantic voices behind her, shouts and screams and running footsteps. She could hear Walker's Gate being thrown open, and, to her utter, grateful relief, she could hear Constance's voice roaring a spell. Amelia felt a tightening sensation around her body, pinning her arms to her sides were she able to move them, and suddenly she was being dragged backwards, blurring through the air until she reached the safety of the gate archway. Firm but gentle hands caught her and performed a quick counterspell, and she was free to move. Amelia blinked and found herself being held upright by Egbert, before setting herself on her feet again and looking around for Constance, knowing already where she would be.

Algernon was crouched on the floor beside her head, feeling the pulse in her neck.

"Algie, there's no time!" cried Egbert. "The Shield's falling!"

Amelia looked up to see the blackness of the Shield falling towards them like a knife edge, quicker and quicker, Constance's legs out of its boundaries... She pushed forward and together, she and Algernon dragged the unconscious deputy through the gate just before the Shield fell with an inaudible but palpable thud.

"Oh Lord, what have you done, Constance?" Amelia murmured, forcing herself to take in the fallen woman fully as Algernon checked her pulse and breathing before Egbert cast a spell to levitate her up as if on a stretcher and carry her into the castle. Her face was contorted into a mask of pain, the tips of her casting fingers smoking in the manner that Amelia had grudgingly come to expect. Her face was wet, brow coated in perspiration and cheeks streaked with obvious tear tracks. She looked so helpless, lying suspended in midair, so limp and so vulnerable. As they entered the building sombrely, they were met by the small crowd of girls and staff who had been watching the scene.

"_Mio dio_," muttered Mrs Tapioca from the stairwell to the kitchens below. "She's-a done it-a this time."

"She'll be alright," Amelia assured the gathered pupils, hoping that her words carried enough truth to convince them for the time being. "She'll be alright."

The girls didn't respond, simply standing back to let them pass on the way to their form-mistress's room. Once they arrived, Egbert lowered her gently onto the bed and stood back, allowing Amelia to perch at the foot to watch over her.

"She sensed that you were in trouble from Agatha's words and she got away from mine and Algernon's grip," he explained gently. "Before we knew it, she had the gates open and was hollering the Lasso spell at the top of her lungs. We all knew the consequences, Constance included. It's a powerful spell, and at that magnitude, even without her already being so angry... But it was the only way that we could get you back into the castle before the shield started to drop." He paused. "Is there any spell we could use to wake her?"

Amelia shook her head.

"There are various potions, but only Constance would know the exact composition, and I don't know that we have any in stock. We shall simply have to wait."

Egbert nodded before backing out of the room silently, leaving Amelia alone to break down in the way she had wanted to do ever since leaving the castle alone to face Agatha. She had tried to keep Constance safe from further pain; she had even broken one of her most deep seated rules and used magic against her forcibly. But still, despite all her best efforts, Agatha had succeeded in hurting her friend and deputy once more.

Presently there was a knock at the door and Amelia dried her eyes on her sleeve hastily before calling out.

"Who is it?"

"Della," came the reply. That was all she said, giving no intention of wanting to be invited in for whatever reason. Amelia thought for a moment before reckoning that the intrusion would not be unwelcome.

"Come in."

The door opened soundlessly and Della entered, drawing a small bottle from her bag.

"I thought these might help," she said, beginning to ease out the tight cork. "They're smelling salts. I have them as a joke really, Mum says I might need them if I ever meet one of the heroes from my old romances and swoon into his arms."

The cork popped free and a powerful, unpleasant scent wafted into the room. Della waved the bottle under Constance's nose a few times, and Amelia's heart leapt to her mouth when her deputy's nose wrinkled and she twitched her fingers before her eyes fluttered open. Della immediately recorked the bottle and waved her hand around ineffectually to try and disperse the smell.

"What was that?" asked Constance, her voice groggy.

"Smelling salts," said Della cheerfully, putting the bottle back into her bag. "I never knew that they actually worked." She went to move away but Constance caught her arm, staring intently into her face with bleary eyes, blinking slowly and deliberately a few times before giving a satisfied smile and letting go, making to lever herself up gingerly.

"Constance," said Amelia in the most authoritative voice that she could muster in her state of sheer relief. "You are going to stay horizontal for the next ten minutes at least, or lord help me I will make you stay horizontal!"

Constance nodded and settled back against her pillows, the hint of a serene smile playing on her lips as she closed her eyes. Amelia blinked, startled. She had expected more of a fight. Looking from her friend to Della, she saw the puzzled look on the younger woman's face, her right hand unconsciously clutched around her left arm where Constance had been holding it.

"What was that about?" she murmured, and in that moment, Amelia knew.

"Oh Constance, you devious little..." she began under her breath as she led Della out of the room to allow Constance some much needed rest. As she closed the door behind her, she spoke aloud to the Liaison.

"Constance is trying to establish a magical connection with you in order to channel your magic herself. We've had an idea."

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**Note2: ***Kimmeth is too tired to say anything else. She hopes you enjoyed.*


	21. Chapter 21

**Note: **Migraine relief and symptoms are mentioned in this chapter. I had a friend at 6th form who swore by Imigran. I have had one once before, and it was not nice: the symptoms described are my own: thumping headache and swimming, sepia-like vision.

In other news, there's another Dark Knight reference! This one's way easier to spot though.

There's also a reference to my other WW story, Hair of the Dog. Shameless self-publicity there but hey!

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**Inferno**

**Twenty-One**

It had been a very strange sort of day, reflected Mildred, and she had just discovered something that was going to make it even stranger. Looking down at the highlighted passage in the book as she walked along the corridors towards the staff quarters, she still couldn't quite work out the logistics of what she had just read, but she knew that if anyone could create something worthwhile from the jumble of thoughts in her mind, then it was Miss Hardbroom. The potions teacher had spent the majority of the afternoon secreted away in her room with Della, under strict instructions from Miss Cackle to recuperate from her fainting scare in the morning, and trying to establish and strengthen a connection that would allow her to channel Della's magic as it if were her own.

Mildred took a deep breath as she stepped into the part of the school in which the teachers lived. The last time she had been here had been at the end of her second year when Maud had fallen ill after being inadvertently poisoned. Mildred still held unwelcome memories of that night and wanted to be reminded of it as little as possible, so being here again, in the dark no less, was not helping to set her mind at ease at all. She reached Miss Hardbroom's door and knocked, listening as the muffled voices from within stopped.

"Who is it?" asked her form-mistress.

"Me," said Mildred. "I think I've found something."

The door opened and Della smiled before welcoming her into the room with a wave of her hand. Mildred stepped inside carefully, avoiding treading on Morgana's tail. Miss Hardbroom was sitting on her bed, hunched over and panting slightly.

"Miss!" Mildred said, shocked. "Are you alright?"

"Well, I'm conscious," said Miss Hardbroom, "which is an improvement on this morning." She straightened into a more familiar posture and met Mildred's eyes. "What have you found?"

Mildred presented the book to her, pointing out the paragraph and standing back whilst Miss Hardbroom perused it.

"Is it working?" she asked Della quietly. The older woman shrugged.

"I haven't the foggiest," she replied. "I'm pretty clueless when it comes to magic, but if looks are anything to go by, then the results have been quite..._visually impressive_ so far."

Mildred stifled a laugh. Miss Cackle had not been particularly happy with Miss Hardbroom once it had been established that she had made a connection to Della in order to channel her magic, since it had been unanimously decided that it was probably a good idea to only have one witch with a focussed connection to the Liaison at any given time. However, she had grudgingly accepted that, even with her injuries and pain, Miss Hardbroom was still their best offensive fighter in the absence of any ability on Della's part. If their confrontation with Agatha was going to come down to combat, which it inevitably would, then it would be the deputy head who would lead their attack. Miss Hardbroom had argued that channelling Della's magic would give her the strength she required to cast the most powerful spells she could; Della's power would help her bear the pain, and hopefully make the casting process less strenuous.

Mildred had tuned out at that point in the conversation, the intricacies of the processes of channelling and deep magical theory proving too complex for her tired, fraught brain. From the smoking papers in the small room it seemed likely that any simple spark tests that Miss Hardbroom had done whilst channelling Della's magic as well as her own would have been extremely impressive indeed.

"My word," murmured Miss Hardbroom, reaching the end of the paragraph that Mildred had given her. "My word," she repeated, before standing and giving the book to Della, who skimmed over the highlighted text. She shook her head in puzzlement.

"But I know about this," she said. "The Power of Three, it crops up in all sorts of old Wicca-style magic books. By working together a group of witches can increase their power. It's common practice, I read about it all the time in the shop."

Mildred and Miss Hardbroom stared at her in disbelief, and Mildred saw Della hide a smile behind her hand as she turned it into a cough.

Mildred had found the particular extract purely by chance whilst she was looking up an unrelated spell. Whilst it was not specifically linked to the magic of the Liaison as such, it was too much of a coincidence for Mildred to let pass. It briefly detailed the idea of three related magicians pooling their inherent talents to create an awesome source of power. It was the idea of _inherent_ magic that had caught her eye, and ultimately led her to bring the book to her form-mistress's attention.

"I was thinking," Mildred began, having been thrown off-track slightly by Della's reaction, "that if Della, Ethel and the Chief Wizard worked together, then they could combine their magic." She paused. "It doesn't say that they have to be able to cast spells, just have magic. On the other hand, it doesn't say how they actually go about combining magic."

"Anything's worth a try in my opinion." Della shrugged. "I'll go and find Ethel."

Mildred smiled as Della left the room. The two unexpected cousins were slowly getting used to each other. Since Ethel had accepted Della last night, the mutual trust and respect was growing as the packet of mint imperials decreased exponentially. Mildred looked at Miss Hardbroom, who was massaging her casting fingers, her eyes closed and her mouth a firm, expressionless line.

"I suppose you can't really continue now that Della's left," Mildred suggested. The teacher shook her head.

"No, she must be close enough for me to feel the connection." She sighed heavily and opened her eyes. "Channelling another's magic is a strange experience. I don't quite know how to describe it, but it feels something like both a great responsibility and a great advantage. You know that you are handling and using something precious that isn't yours. At the same time, having double the power behind your spells, the feeling can be quite intoxicating. And Della has an awful lot more than double my power. It is such a shame that she cannot use it herself."

Mildred fell to thinking, before voicing a question that had been playing on her mind for a while.

"If you can channel Della's power, will you be able to defeat Agatha?" she asked her form-mistress. Miss Hardbroom exhaled heavily in a breath that was not quite a sigh but was still capable of expressing all her uncertainties and fears.

"I don't know, Mildred, I honestly don't know. I think that I have a much better chance of defeating her, but we must take into consideration the fact that we do not truly know what we are up against, and there is always the possibility that in order for the power of the Liaison to come to full fruition, the Liaison herself must use it. Yes, I can channel her magic and use it as if it were my own, but that still means it is tainted by own magic and shaped by my own spells. It is not the pure power of the Liaison. Is it simply raw power that makes a Liaison able to defeat a demon, or is it something in their very genetics?" She paused. "Nothing is ever simple, Mildred. There are always far too many questions hanging over our magic. It is, in its very essence, a strange and complicated being with a life of its own. The Foster's tells us that much."

They were interrupted by a knock at the door and Della's voice.

"Constance?"

"Come in."

The door edged open and Della and Ethel poked their heads around it.

"Erm, Miss Hardbroom, could I speak to you for a minute?" asked Ethel. Her face was pinched and nervous, but at the same time she appeared to have a determined air about her.

"Certainly Ethel." She rose and followed Ethel out of the room, leaving Mildred and Della alone together. Della wandered around the small chamber, picking at the charred paper markers that were scattered over the chest of drawers, presently bending to scratch Morgana's ears when the cat rubbed against her ankle.

"What's it like for you?" Mildred asked her. "Having Miss Hardbroom channel your power?"

Della grimaced.

"I don't feel a thing," she said. "I just have to sit here and watch her heaving in pain whilst she copes with having two lots of magic flowing through her." She sighed. "It's horrible to see her when she cracks and gives up."

Mildred bit her lip. She knew that she would never be able to get Miss Hardbroom to admit that channelling Della's magic was difficult and causing her problems with her fingers, so the only way to get a true account was to get it from Della.

"Constance Hardbroom is a truly remarkable witch, don't get me wrong," Della amended hastily. "She's like, I don't know, the Batmobile: fantastically intelligent and the mindset of a tank. But even the Batmobile can only withstand so much bazooka fire. No-one's infallible, and we're all damned to make her see that." She flashed a small smile at Mildred. "Ok, perhaps damned wasn't quite the right word to use in the circumstances."

Mildred returned the smile with a snort and looked towards the door, wondering what Miss Hardbroom and Ethel could be discussing. No doubt it was something to do with Della and Ethel's role in her life. She heard a gasp and turned back to Della, who was gripping the top of the dresser hard. She gasped again and staggered backwards, sitting heavily on the bed before holding her head in her hands.

"What's the matter?" Mildred asked, alarmed by this sudden exclamation. "Are you hurt?"

"Migraine," Della gasped. "I get them sometimes, when I'm tired, or when someone gets me ordinary coffee instead of decaf. Normally I have a bit of warning though. It doesn't usually just hit like that."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"I have some Imigran in my handbag," Della said through gritted teeth. "I keep it for emergencies." She was still clutching her head. "Christ, that's bad. My vision's going all sepia."

Mildred rifled through the large black leather bag to find the tablets, pulling out everything until she finally found the small blue packet and handed them over with a bottle of water that she'd had to move to reach them.

"Thanks." Della popped one of the pills and as she lifted her head to swallow it, Mildred took a step back and gasped in shock. Her eyes, normally a pale, grey-blue, were sparkling like gemstones, and Mildred couldn't see her pupils. Luckily, Della didn't seem to notice her exclamation, closing her disturbing eyes whilst she washed the tablet down. When she opened them again, they were back to normal, but Mildred refused to put down what she had seen to be a trick of the light. There was something very strange occurring, and she didn't know what it was. Was this part of Della's magic, or was it something more sinister, something related to Agatha? Whatever it was, Mildred was sure that it was linked to the sudden migraine. Della leaned over with a small groan, her head almost between her knees.

"I'll get Miss Hardbroom," said Mildred, worried. Now both the women who formed their best hope of victory against Agatha were not at full strength. "Perhaps she could get you a potion that would help or something."

"Sleep," said Della, her voice barely a whimper. "I need sleep."

Mildred rushed out of the door.

"Miss Hardbroom!" she called, the panic that she dared not show to Della rising in her voice. Whilst Mildred was sure that this was no ordinary migraine, she didn't want to worry the one suffering it.

"What is it Mildred?" Miss Hardbroom rounded the corner quickly, Ethel in tow.

"It's Della, she's got a really bad migraine," Mildred explained. "It just came on like that." She snapped her fingers. "I think it's something to do with the magic. She wants a sleeping potion."

"Of course. Ethel, you know where the sleeping potions in the lab are kept, could you fetch me one of the milder ones please?"

Ethel nodded and ran off in the opposite direction, leaving Mildred and Miss Hardbroom to re-enter the room. Della had kicked off her boots and curled up in a ball on the edge of the bed, her face turned away from them.

"Della?" Miss Hardbroom asked softly. She placed a hand lightly on her arm. "How bad is it?"

"On a scale of one to ten, it's a twelve," she muttered. She buried her face in her arms. "I just want to curl up in my own bed and feel sorry for myself. I want my mum."

Neither witch knew what to say to comfort their distressed companion, and they remained in silence until Ethel returned with the potion. Della accepted it wordlessly and Miss Hardbroom helped her swing her legs up onto the bed and lie down fully before she drifted off into a deep, painless slumber.

The three witches left the room.

"We should probably tell the headmistress," said Miss Hardbroom. "Why did you think it was magical, Mildred?"

As Mildred began to explain, she noticed Miss Hardbroom massage her casting fingers almost unconsciously. Whilst Della's sudden attack had thrown them very off-balance, they could not forget that she was not the only one being hurt by magic unknown.

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**Note2: **And all will be revealed soon!

*Kimmeth gets out the old pointy stick and waves it in front of the review button.*

Please?


	22. Chapter 22

**Note: **Hereby presenting our second chapter from HB's perspective. Told you there'd be more than one! Enjoy.  


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**Inferno**

**Twenty-Two**

Constance flexed her hands, ignoring the slight twinge of pain that ran from her fingertips up her arms to her shoulders. She looked out from under the brim of her pointed hat straight ahead, where Amelia was standing completely motionless on the frosty ground of the main courtyard, silent in anticipation. It was three minutes to midnight. The final six hours of their freedom before the final battle had passed almost in the blink of an eye, Della having been asleep for most of them, and the girls being briefed on what was going to occur for the rest of the time. Constance craned her neck to look back at the twelve girls who comprised the fourth year, clad in hats, cloaks and warm clothes and huddled together in the shadow of the castle walls. There had been much debate on the logistics of this confrontation before it was decided unanimously amongst the staff that it might be safer to have the girls within easy reach of them and lest there occur any unwelcome surprises from Agatha when it came to the safety of the girls. The risk they were putting them under by exposing them was outweighed by the peace of mind it brought the staff. Imogen, Mrs Tapioca and Frank Blossom were with the girls, accepting that they could not do much in the way of magical combat and gathering, like the pupils, for their own safety. Constance caught Ethel's worried face and sighed inwardly. Earlier in the day, before Della's unexpected 'funny turn', Ethel had asked Constance if she could formally nominate her to take her own place as Della's maternal relation should they need to use the mythical 'Power of Three'. Della had explained the legend to her, she'd said, but Ethel herself felt neither accomplished nor powerful enough to undertake such a heady task. By nominating Constance to take her place, she had handed over the mantel and the binding tie of the 'blood' relation. She had felt awful, asking her form-mistress to do this on top of her already Herculean task of channelling Della's magic, but Constance would far rather take on the extra responsibility than have Ethel doubting her ability to perform something so important. If they were going to have to use such magic, it was a decision that would have to be made on a fingersnap, and the participants would have to be ready. Egbert and Della would be ready, and Constance knew that whatever happened, she would be ready too. She had to be.

Presently her gaze came forward and took in the next line in front of the girls. Algernon and Davina were standing together, talking quietly. Davina was twirling her conducting baton between her fingers in her agitation, and Constance could tell that Algernon's whispered but still upbeat words of encouragement were not having much of an effect. Constance bit back a smile. She wasn't worried about the girls, and she wasn't particularly worried about her fellow adult witches. Finally she looked to her left, to the black cloaked figure beside her and the Chief Wizard beyond. It was Della that she was worried about. Mildred's description had been making Constance increasingly nervous as the evening had worn on, an evening that she had spent in her room watching over Della's sleeping form. She had looked so young and helpless, like one of the pupils, and at that moment Constance had wanted nothing more than to protect her from the terrors that awaited. At about eleven o'clock she had woken naturally, claiming all traces of her violent headache to have gone, citing the potion mixed with the non-magic pain relief as the cause. Constance wasn't so sure, but she had not pushed the point, satisfied that for the moment at least, the Liaison was back to her normal self.

She was currently wearing Davina's spare cloak over her coat, the hood folded low over her head, partly to conceal her identity and partly to add to the magical atmosphere. The cloak and hat ensemble of a witch was something so inherently magical in itself that it would hopefully give an unconscious message to Agatha before they even began; that this group of magicians was not a force to be taken lightly. Constance could hear the slight creaking of her leather gloves as the woman clenched and unclenched her fists, unseen in the dark folds, using up her nervous tension or simply trying to get the circulation going; Constance couldn't tell. She remembered the conversation that had taken place only a few minutes before, if it could be called a conversation. Della, in a fit of panic, had phoned her mother again.

"Mum, I can't explain," she had begun. "I don't know what's happening, I don't know what's going to happen but remember that I love you mum, and I love Dad, and Nicky, and I have to go now Mum, I love you so much."

Della had hung up then, cutting off Caroline's pleading cries on the other end and falling to her knees on the ground, her phone dropping and bouncing away from her as her hands had come up to cover her face and muffle her heart-rending wail. She had just come to terms with the fact that she might never see her beloved family again, and it terrified her as much as it did anyone else. Mildred and Amelia's words had managed to bring her back from the brink of a complete nervous breakdown, but Constance knew that it would only be a matter of time before the gravity of the situation struck home and the hysterics affected them all alike.

In the distance, a clock struck twelve. The blackness of the Shield lifted, and Amelia flung Walker's Gate open before leading the gathered occupants of the castle out onto the vast field of ice that, sure enough, surrounded the school. Agatha was nowhere to be seen, and somehow this fact worried Constance more than if she had been there in front of them with an army of hideous ghouls and demons of varying form and function.

"Agatha!" Amelia called, the unnatural echoes bouncing off cliff faces that could not be seen distorting her voice into a harsh, inhuman cry. "Agatha, we're here, and we've made a decision."

The sound of the flame came first, the distant roar, followed swiftly by a circle of fire springing suddenly up in the centre of the plain on which they stood. Constance sensed Della twitch beside her and felt an overwhelming urge to reassure her. She hesitantly reached out her left hand and found Della's right, giving it a comforting squeeze. Della turned, and the fear in her eyes was plain to see.

"We'll get through this," Constance mouthed, and gave her back her hand.

Agatha stepped out of the burning circle.

"So I see," she said, answering Amelia's earlier call. "And I can see from your rudimentary battle lines that not only have you managed to draw up some pathetic support for you little campaign, but you have decided to take the third option, which I don't recall giving you two days ago. I said, surrender the school to me or be dragged to Hell. I did not give you the answer C, none of the above." Agatha laughed manically. "But you've taken option C anyway. Do you honestly think you can fight me? Do you honestly think that your combined power is any match for mine? I have the power of the Devil, Amelia, nothing can defeat that!"

"Don't be so sure, Agatha," said Amelia coolly, but Constance could detect the waver of fear in her voice. Her twin ignored her statement, pushing past her roughly to come face to face with Della.

"And what have we here?" she asked, her voice soft and dangerous. Della lifted her head defiantly and the hood of her cloak fell back to reveal her face. "Well well, if it isn't the useless little non-witch from the bookshop."

There was silence, and Constance knew that this was the point of no return. Whilst Della's family had to accept her as a Liaison in order for her inherent magic to awaken, she was sure that Della would have to accept _herself _as a Liaison in order for the full extent of her power to come to the fore and channel itself through Constance.

"I am not a non-witch," snarled Della. "I am a Liaison."

Agatha was genuinely shocked. Even with her new limitless, near-omniscient power, she had not been prepared for this.

"What?" she hissed, backing up a few steps. "You can't be! It's impossible! All the Liaisons were wiped out! Slaughtered! Dragged from their beds and murdered by the Task Force! We all knew it happened!"

Della shook her head.

"No, I am a Liaison. They must have missed me when they were doing the rounds."

"It's true," said the Chief Wizard. "I am her father."

"And her mother was my aunt," said Ethel from behind them.

Silence engulfed them once more, before Agatha recovered herself and smiled evilly.

"Well then my pretty," she said, moving close into Della so that the younger woman was forced to flinch back to avoid contact. "All that means is that you are the one I'll destroy first!"

Agatha raised her hands to cast a spell, and Constance knew that at such a point blank range the only way to save Della at this moment would be to throw herself in front of her. But such drastic action was not required.

"Algernon!" yelled the Egbert, and in the time it took Agatha to begin casting her diabolical spell, the two wizards had banged the ends of their staffs on the ground simultaneously, creating a thunderous shockwave that reverberated along the ice, causing it to crack between Della and Agatha. The slight movement was all it took to throw Agatha's balance slightly and cancel the spell. Egbert held out a hand to help Amelia hop across the widening divide, and a sense of relief settled over the group. The first skirmish had been won, but not by much. They could not use such a tactic again, and it had served only to delay the inevitable, not to prevent it completely.

"Get behind me," muttered Constance, and Della needed no further encouragement to slip into the shadow of the taller witch. With the close proximity, Constance could feel Della's inherent magic bubbling up and swirling around her, a living yet invisible force. She closed her eyes and began to draw the magic into herself, finding the channelling process the easiest she had done all day.

"Now then, now then," crooned Agatha, "let's not get hasty." She smiled sweetly at Della, peering around Constance to see her. "Now why would a Liaison, a witch of such fabled prowess, need to hide from little old me? Why would all the others in the group feel such a need to protect her as if she were the weakest element? This is most irregular, most irregular indeed. Unless..." She paused, and her smile became one of triumphant realisation. "Of course, I see now. You can't protect yourself." She sighed in mock sympathy. "Such a waste. All that power, all that potential, but you really are useless if you can't channel your magic my dear. They may think they've found a catch in you, but honestly, what can you do?"

Constance could feel the rage deep within her bones gathering force.

"She may not be able to channel her magic herself," she snarled, pushing up her sleeves and holding her fingers out in the classic duelling position, already thinking of what spell to cast to pre-empt Agatha's next attack, "but at least she has friends here who are willing to channel it for her!"

Constance could feel Della's magic filling her up as she began to cast, warming her blood, a tingling sensation that spread from her heart all through her body, right to the very tips of her fingers and exploding into the force of her spell, showers of sparks exploding in the air as she met Agatha's spell head on, a firework display much like the one in the bookshop but made so much more terrifying and awesome by the strange, otherworldly surroundings. She threw all her own magical strength behind the spell, and suddenly she felt a surge of power as Della placed a hand on her shoulder, assisting the flow of magic. The pain was fast becoming unbearable, her casting fingers burning so much that her hands were turning numb. It was bringing tears to her eyes, and she blinked them away, focussing on Agatha's face and her sadistic smile of glee on seeing the pain she was causing to the deputy head.

"Constance!" She heard Amelia's strangled, panicked voice. "Constance! Your fingers!"

Constance looked down at her fingertips and screamed. The flesh was slowly melting away, exposing the bone which in turn was crumbling into blackened powder under the force of both the conflicting spells.

"Just like God," came Agatha's honeyed tones. "The Devil giveth, and the Devil taketh away."

Constance couldn't break now. She couldn't give up. She had to keep going, work through the pain, through the torment. She had to keep channelling Della's power; she had to keep Agatha distracted, weakened even, by the sheer blunt force of the spell.

Suddenly everything went black.

Constance wondered idly if she was dead.

* * *

**Note2: ***Kimmeth has nothing else to say.*


	23. Chapter 23

**Note: **Here we go! Chapter 23! Crunch time, if you will... Enjoy, and look out for Davina's Robert De Niro impression.

**Disclaimer: **Apologies in advance to Michael Sheen. All will become clear.

* * *

**Inferno**

**Twenty-Three**

For a moment, Mildred thought that she had passed out, but the murmurs of her classmates were enough to convince her that everyone was experiencing this same blind blackness.

"Why has it all gone dark?" someone whispered.

"We're dead!" screamed Miss Bat hysterically. Mildred heard frantic running footsteps followed by a thud and a mumbled 'oof'; she surmised that Miss Bat had run into Mr Rowan-Webb and knocked him for six. "We're all dead!"

"Davina, I am fairly sure that we are not all dead," said Mr Rowan-Webb, his voice sounding a little strained and out of breath. "Could you get off me now please?"

There was more rustling, and through it Mildred could hear Miss Cackle's voice.

"Constance? Della?"

"We're here." Della's voice was shaking with fear, and Mildred could envision her trembling.

"I'm alright," said Miss Hardbroom, but there too was a definite quiver in her voice. "I'm still vertical."

"Where are we?" asked Della's voice. "Are we still in Hell?"

"I believe that, since we all appear to be experiencing the same effects, that we are in a sort of void. A limbo, if you like, neither one place nor another," Miss Hardbroom replied, and for a brief second, Mildred felt a touch more pacified, knowing that there was a half-rational explanation for their sudden plunge into darkness.

"Did you do this?" Miss Cackle asked. "Your spell?"

"I... I don't know... I..."

Miss Hardbroom was cut off by the sound of clapping, slow, hollow and sarcastic.

"Oh, very good, very impressive. Very visually dynamic. You really are _inspiring_, ladies."

This new voice that pierced its way through the darkness was obviously not Agatha's, and whilst Mildred could not quite place where she had heard it before, it was enough to make the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. It was a dangerous voice, and slimy, so slimy that it made Mildred want to douse her hands in the antibacterial gel that she had found in Della's handbag earlier. The surroundings seemed to lighten then, although whether it was due to her eyes becoming accustomed to the dark or because of some other, unseen magical force, she couldn't tell. She could make out the figures of her classmates gathered around in a huddle, with the teachers and the wizards in a similar grouping further on. Agatha was standing motionless where she had been before, her serene smile affixed in place once more.

"And Agatha, my dear, your talents of illusion are really most incredible, but I would much prefer it if you stopped eroding this dear lady's casting fingers, and I am sure she would appreciate it even more than myself."

Mildred gasped along with the rest of the gathered crowd as Miss Hardbroom held up her damaged, half-charred hands. The air around them seemed to ripple, as if with heat shimmer, and suddenly her fingers were back to normal, exactly as they had been before her initial injury. She flexed her casting fingers, lost for words.

"It was an illusion?" Miss Cackle gasped. "It wasn't real?"

"Of course it wasn't real," scoffed the unseen voice. Mildred thought that she could make out movement ahead of them in the corner of her eye, but she couldn't be sure, and after just witnessing what she had, she didn't think she would ever be able to trust her eyes again. "Everything you saw, you only thought you saw."

"But the pain," gasped Miss Hardbroom. "It was so real, so awful"

"She does have a talent, don't you Agatha? That part of my magic seemed to come easily to her."

There was definite movement now, Mildred could not deny it. A cloaked something moved into the dim light and stood beside Agatha, whose simpering smile was beginning to make Mildred feel distinctly nauseous. Gloved hands moved from within the folds of the cloak to lower the hood, and in that brief second, Mildred knew exactly what, or whom, she was looking at. It was the seated figure from her nightmare. They were about to come face to face with the Devil.

Almost unconsciously, Mildred moved forward, ignoring Maud and Enid's pleas to remain with the rest of the group of fourth years, safety in numbers. She stopped next to Della and Miss Hardbroom.

"It's the Devil," she whispered, confident that in the extreme stillness of their current environs the message would carry to those who needed to hear it.

"I don't know about the Devil," muttered Della through her teeth, speaking out of the corner of her mouth to Mildred. She cocked her head on one side and squinted through her eyelashes "I can't take anyone claiming to be the Prince of Darkness seriously when they remind me of Michael Sheen."

Mildred turned to take in the new addition to the tableau fully. He looked so _normal_, although Mildred didn't quite know what she was expecting instead – tattooed red skin and horns perhaps.

"Well Agatha," he began once more, his voice smooth and threatening. "You have brought me a pretty set of souls to add to my collection. His deep red eyes – perhaps the only truly disturbing part of his outward appearance – drifted around the gathered group, taking them all in hungrily, like an appraisal. He lingered on Mildred for a few seconds, his penetrating stare boring into her, so deep that she could almost feel it in her bones.

"Oh yes, the talent in this selection is absolutely extraordinary. So many young ones, just ripe with potential. Oh, the fun we could have with these." Mildred heard a rustling as the girls behind her shuffled closer together for safety and comfort. "But why linger on them when there are so many more interesting ones closer at hand?"

He took a step forward and was beside Della.

"The Liaison," he said, affecting tedium. "A rarity indeed, a precious jewel in any collection. But this particular Liaison I find distinctly lacking in something." He looked her up and down, and Mildred saw Della's hand twitch inside her sleeve as if she was fighting the urge to slap him hard around the face for his impertinence. Something told Mildred that such an action against this particular entity was not the wisest of decisions.

He seemed to tire of Della then and he moved towards Mildred, who backed up a few steps.

"Oh come now my dear, I won't hurt you. Such a brilliant imagination, with talents almost unheard of..." He stretched out a hand towards her but a squeak to Mildred's left caught his attention and he withdrew. Mildred let out a long-held breath of relief and his eyes flicked immediately over to Miss Bat, who was cowering behind Mr Rowan-Webb, clutching at his sleeve and peering round his arm.

"I am not quite sure," the Devil continued, "what possible use I could have for the shrill one though."

Miss Bat looked around furtively for the person that he was addressing before coming to the realisation that it was herself.

"Are you talking to me?" she squeaked indignantly, puffing out her chest.

"Yes," said the Devil. "I suppose you would make a nice doorbell if nothing else."

"I... I..." Miss Bat faltered, partly due to fear and partly due to sheer unadulterated rage at this slander on her magical capacity. "I am a perfectly capable witch, thank you very much!"

"Of course you are," said the Devil offhandedly, paying no attention, already searching for his next target. "Of course you are." His eyes settled, and Mildred felt her heart skip a beat as she noticed the certainty and purpose with which he moved towards Miss Hardbroom.

"Now here," he murmured. "Here is where the real power lies. Here's the mortals' secret weapon. So much of your own power, added to that which you currently channel. You could be unstoppable, invincible... And now you have your fingers back, I daresay you would be more than capable. To hold off the onslaught of all my channelled power without any supernatural aids at all, it really is most extraordinary..." He broke off abruptly, beginning to address the deputy head directly. "But where are our manners? We should be formally introduced before we continue this little flirtation. Take off your hat my dear, let me see your eyes."

There was a long pause, during which Mildred took the opportunity to look around at the others. Miss Cackle was beside the Chief Wizard, the former mute and frozen with fear, the latter keeping his eyes steadfastly on Agatha, watching her every move whilst everyone else was focussed on the more dangerous party who was currently standing in a proximity to Miss Hardbroom that would never have been permissible to a mortal male. Della was completely motionless beside her, her entire body tense and curled into a defensive half-crouch, ready to spring into action if needed, although Mildred didn't see how she could entertain any hope of besting such an unknown force in physical combat.

Finally Miss Hardbroom removed her hat, sweeping it off her head with a grandiose gesture, giving a small shiver and raising her chin defiantly. The Devil rubbed his pale hands together.

"My my," he breathed, slowly turning a circle around her, looking her up and down as he went like a ravenous wolf. "This is _most_ unexpected." He came back round to meet her eyes. "Have you ever thought of joining the other side, my dear? You would be a most welcome addition to our forces, with so much natural skill. You would be more useful than _some_ of my past associates."

Mildred thought that she Agatha, still standing in the background, twitch slightly.

"Yes, I am sure I could find you a very advantageous position." He paused. "And after all, Pandora was the one to unleash the evils of the world upon it for her curiosity."

"My name," Miss Hardbroom breathed, speaking through clenched teeth, "is Constance, and I would never consider your offer."

"Are you sure?" The Devil's tone affected hurt. "One's soul is such a small price to pay. With the eagerness with which some people dispose of theirs, one would hardly think it a precious commodity at all in this day and age."

"No," said Miss Hardbroom, her voice steely. She began to back away slowly, and Mildred and Della parted unconsciously to let her pass between them. The Devil made no move to follow her, and this caused Mildred a certain degree of unease. She was not used to having to plan everything on the whim of a being that was, in essence, the living embodiment of chaos. "That is my final answer."

Suddenly he disappeared, and the gathered party looked around in fear, wondering where he would appear. Miss Hardbroom made a strangled sound part way between a gasp and a scream as he materialised behind her, snaking an arm around her slim waist and pulling her in against him sharply.

"I'm afraid, my dear," he began, his voice still charismatic but lower, and far more dangerous, "that you don't have much of a choice in the matter."

Miss Hardbroom raised her hands to cast a spell and free herself, and Mildred could see the sheer power sparkling at the ends of her undamaged fingertips, but something was preventing the magic from manifesting itself in any physical form. The Devil smiled evilly, bringing a hand up to her head and threading his fingers through her long hair, pulling it out of the braid and letting it fly around them in the unnatural and concentrated wind that had suddenly started to blow around the group.

"I do _love_ a woman with spirit!" he cried, his voice becoming more and more inhuman and terrifying. "So much more of a challenge, but so much more of a _reward_!"

Miss Hardbroom, finally incensed beyond rational thought, reached around and slapped him like Della had been itching to do earlier. He laughed off the attack, and Mildred wondered if he had even felt it.

"That's more like it!" he hissed, wrenching her head sideways and leaning in close to her neck as she panted and struggled against his iron grip.

"Get away from her!" screamed Miss Cackle, at last motivated from paralysed fear into mobile anger, throwing herself forward towards her distressed deputy. The Devil held up a hand, almost lazily, and she was stopped in her tracks by an invisible force. He leaned in and whispered something in Miss Hardbroom's ear.

Mildred knew that there was nothing she could do to prevent what happened next. All she could do was watch in mute horror as he released his hold on her teacher and she staggered forward before collapsing gracefully back into his arms. Her eyes fluttered closed and her body went limp, hair hanging in tendrils around her and hiding her face. It was as if she had given up completely.

"Well you're no fun now, are you?" said the Devil. Casually, he moved his hands and vanished into a wisp of inky smoke, leaving Miss Hardbroom to fall to the ground, the ground that was melting from blackness into the more familiar ice of the ninth circle.

"Constance!" Miss Cackle screamed, lunging across the slippery surface with Della and the wizards following suit. They reached her just as she hit the ice with a sickening thud.

* * *

**Note2: **Don't kill me!

*Kimmeth searches for her housemate's colander and places it on her head, armed with a wooden spoon for protection against the irate reviewers.*

*Especially as she is going home for the weekend so the next installment won't be with you till Sunday at the earliest.*

Erm, yes, also, Michael Sheen, if you're reading this, please don't sue me. I did not in any way mean to infer that Mr Sheen is satanic or anything, it's just that whenever I picture the Devil I get his character from the New Moon film... If you are unfamiliar with it, have a gander at the link below - just take out the spaces!

http:// www. imdb. com /media/ rm1035372800 /tt1259571

*Kimmeth waves her pointy stick at the review button whilst frantically looking up libel law...*


	24. Chapter 24

**Note:** Sorry for the wait, but I'm back now! Enjoy, and bonus points for anyone who can spot the Les Miserables reference that I didn't even know I had put in.

* * *

**Inferno**

**Twenty-Four**

Amelia slipped across the ice as fast as she was able, tripping onto her knees as she neared Constance's prone form, cradling her deputy's head in her lap, pushing the loose strands of her hair out of her face. In any other circumstances she would have been relieved to see her looking so peaceful, so free from tension, but at that moment Amelia could only feel anger and hatred towards the perpetrator of this affliction whilst Algernon and Egbert performed the necessary first aid around her as best they could with their limited knowledge. Amelia looked up and around to find the Devil – she shuddered internally just thinking the name – standing at a safe distance wearing a serene and almost amused expression.

"What have you done to her?" Amelia snarled.

"Me?" The Devil sounded shocked. "I haven't done anything. Although, I must admit, in all my numerous seductions I have never had any woman fall into my embrace _quite_ like that. I must be getting better."

"Amelia!" Egbert's voice was sharp and authoritative over the noise of the wind that was still constantly blowing in the distance, a harsh and unrelenting backdrop. His voice cut through the low growl that Amelia had not realised she had been giving. "Amelia, she's just fainted, she's going to be alright. Just give her some air, perhaps Della's bottle of tricks."

Amelia made herself think rationally – Constance had hardly slept and barely eaten over the past two days, it would not be unnatural to assume that she would not be at her strongest, even with Della's additional power. When that was added to the stress of coping with the trauma regarding her fingers, and the lecherous attentions of the demon, it could be no wonder that she had fainted. Amelia forced her thoughts to turn away from the way Constance had locked down completely when he had grabbed her, her face a mixture of fear and torment. Although the subject had never been broached between the two witches, Amelia was sometimes under the dark impression that something very undesirable involving the opposite gender had occurred in Constance's youth in order to engender her occasionally irrational dislike of males, and she dreaded to think of the emotions her usually so stoic friend was experiencing.

"Constance," said Della, holding one of the deputy's cold hands in her own gloved one and rubbing it roughly. Amelia did the same to her other hand. "Come on Constance, we need you more than ever now."

Amelia could hear the worried murmurs of the students behind her, intermingled with Davina's incoherent cries, her shrill voice sounding out a jumble of shrieked spells and curses, shot through with her ever-present and unrelenting mantra 'we're going to die, we're all going to die'. Amelia closed her eyes, pleading with whatever entity might be in control of their existence at that point in time that Constance could wake up and everything could be put right, that together she and Della could defeat the odious creature that was circling in a wide arc around them, keeping a respectful distance but always watching them, never taking his eyes off the tableau that was unfolding in the centre of his icy stage.

"Come on Constance." Della's voice was firmer this time, even through its tremors of fear. Amelia risked a glance sideways at the younger woman. Her expression was one of disgust mixed with fury, her eyes so wide and petrified that for a moment Amelia was certain that she would be joining Constance unconscious on the cold ground. Black gloved fingers moved to Constance's neck and undid the top couple of buttons of her dress, loosening its restrictive hold on her throat and allowing her more air. "Come on. I need you to wake up so that I can keel over. I haven't fainted yet and I really feel like I could do so any minute now; so I think it's very unfair of you to keep doing this to me..."

She was gabbling in her nervousness, and Amelia could recognise that the pattering monologue truly was the only thing keeping Della from fainting in fright and stress herself as she opened her bag and withdrew a familiar bottle of pungent salts. Before she had uncorked it however, Constance's eyes fluttered open for a split second before she closed them again, her head drooping in Amelia's arms once more. Everyone was silent, frozen, watching; counting the seconds down agonisingly slowly before the usually so collected potions-mistress opened her eyes, blinked several times and coughed weakly before making to stand. Amelia pushed her down, authoritative even through her wondrous relief, thanking her lucky star and Constance's guardian angel that she could be pulled back from the brink so often and still be her tenacious self.

"Oh no," she said, struggling to hold her deputy still. "You cannot get straight back up again."

"Amelia, this is a dire situation!" Constance coughed, finally managing to fight off Amelia's grip and haul herself with what little grace she could muster to her feet once more. Almost as soon as she was vertical again, she stumbled, falling against Algernon and locking her arms around his neck instinctively to stop herself from sliding down his body and onto the floor again, muttering curses against her legs not working.

"Back on her feet for less than a minute and already she's throwing herself pell-mell at the next man to cross her path." The Devil whistled appreciatively, and Amelia turned on her heel, finding his scarlet eyes and throwing him a look that she knew would be pure poison. Della and Constance were both wearing the same expression, and the Devil held up his hands in a gesture of faux surrender, finally stopping his circling and moving over to stand once more between the contingent from Cackle's and Agatha.

"Well, my dear ladies, now that we are all compos mentis once more, I think the time has come for us to discuss a very important matter of business that has arrived on my doorstep, so to speak."

He smiled knowingly and looked up at the castle behind them, surveying it within its current environs.

"It is a rare thing for me to have such a delightful specimen brought to me without any sacrifice on my part. Normally I have to _work_ for something of this calibre..."

Amelia heard a low growl behind her and turned to see Constance standing independent of Algernon, the magic sparkling at her fingertips. She was leaning slightly on Della's arm, and the air around the pair was thick with magic, like the invisible shimmer that had accompanied the breaking of the illusion surrounding Constance's fingers only a few minutes before. The raw power that the pair was exuding was almost tangible, and Amelia took an unconscious step back away from it. She looked back at the Devil to see him standing completely still, the utter lack of movement making her tense. She had never before seen anyone so unnaturally statue-like. He was watching Constance and Della with what appeared to be genuine interest. He had obviously, in his many years of toying with mankind and twisting their whims around his little finger, never witnessed anything quite like the force he was seeing from the pair.

"How are you, Pandora?" he asked Constance politely. "Not feeling too many ill effects I presume? I should be a good host and enquire after the welfare of my guests."

"Shut up," snarled Della, grabbing Constance's hand, although the gesture was wholly for her own comfort and not for her companion's, Constance's pale fingers reddening as Della's frightened grip began cut off the circulation. "And her name is Constance."

The Devil shrugged.

"What's in a name?" He moved forwards towards them, pushing Amelia and Egbert aside with a wave of his palm that sent them staggering off to the side although no physical contact had been made. He reached Constance and stroked the back of one finger down her cheek tenderly, ignoring the way she leaned away from him into Della's side, ignoring the pain and fear in her eyes. For a terrible moment Amelia thought that she was going to faint again, and she prayed that Della would have the strength to hold up the statuesque witch and not send them both sprawling onto the ice. "Pandora suits you very well, though. So much hidden talent, so much mystery." He paused, still in contact with her skin, and Amelia could see her deputy's chest heaving quickly, nearing hyperventilation in her panic. "Are you sure that you won't reconsider my offer?"

Constance said nothing, but the Devil suddenly withdrew his hand, clasping it tightly within his other as if he had been stung, moving back to where he had been circling before, falling motionless save for the scowl darkening his features. He muttered to himself, unheard by anyone save Amelia, who was, she realised with a sinking heart, the closest in proximity.

"I should have known the bitch could bite," he hissed under his breath, before fixing his mask of civility firmly in place and addressing the gathered magicians as a whole.

"I think," he began ponderously, "that it is time for us to explain the terms of Agatha's little agreement with yours truly. After all, it wouldn't do for anyone not to know exactly where they stand now, would it?"

He snapped his fingers and Agatha came forward to his side like an obedient little puppy. For the first time, Amelia thought she saw a flash of unease in her sister's ruby eyes, even through the bottle-end spectacles.

"Now then, when Agatha first came to me, we came to a rather profitable arrangement," he continued, smiling slyly. "I would give her the full range of my power, and in return, she would attempt to wrest this fabulous if slightly dilapidated castle from your watch. If she succeeded in forcing your hand and gaining your signature on the deeds of ownership, then I would continue to loan her my powers for the span of her natural life, whereafter she would surrender me her soul in death, a small price to pay for the reward that would accompany it.

"If, however, dearest Amelia here decided to allow her castle to come here into my domain, with no intention of relinquishing it, then her soul was free, since I would be receiving at least one soul by default from the appearance of the building here... But she would be giving up all her newly-acquired diabolic powers into the bargain.

"It doesn't look as though Amelia is going to give up her castle without a fight though." He shook his head and tutted. "So I receive a soul by default." He crossed his arms and brought one hand up to his face, tapping his cheek with his index finger thoughtfully. "Now, which one of you lovely ladies do I choose to add to my collection down here?" He tapped the ice beneath them with his foot, and Amelia looked down, her stomach twisting itself into violent knots as she realised that the dark shapes submerged in the ice beneath them were _bodies_, the physical manifestations of the souls of the damned that the Devil had already reaped. She closed her eyes, already feeling the freezing prison enclosing above her head as she fell, locking her into position and leaving her in the agony of being unable to move for all eternity, a prisoner of the Devil here in the ninth circle.

"Agatha," the Devil said finally, his tone as pleasant as if he were greeting her in passing. Amelia's eyes snapped open, certain that her ears had been playing tricks on her.

"What?" he sister cried, but an ominous frozen mist was already swirling around her ankles, white icicles intermingled with the briefest of sparkling flames, whirling up around her legs, slowing making its way up her torso, freezing her into a contorted, painful position. "But you said..."

"I said I would receive a soul by default," said the Devil. "And I have. I haven't broken the deal, Agatha. I never specified whose soul I was going to take should the castle end up here. As it is, I've decided that the murky excuse you call a soul is far more interesting to me than I had first thought, and I would like to take eternity to do a little _research_ into it."

"No!"

Agatha's inhuman cry was drawn out as the flames and ice enveloped her completely, her body dissolving away into nothing as her soul was drawn out, a wraith-like waft of inky smoke taking on a physical manifestation for a brief moment as it rose from her unnatural pyre, screaming as it tried to flee but found itself being dragged down, down, down into the ice, where a hole was melting and waiting. The last of her sister's harrowing screams were silenced as Amelia watched the ice close over again. The Devil finally moved from his position – he had not even twitched during Agatha's death - walking slowly across the ice with a sure and arrogant step before bending over to look at his handiwork. He gave a small smile and a satisfied grunt before standing back and beckoning Amelia over to him. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the wizards shaking their heads in fear but she felt compelled by some unknown force, slipping across the rink beneath her feet towards the vile demon, looking downwards where he indicated. Beneath her, she could see ink swirling in the ice, tendrils of the dark substance merging and converging, coming together into the form of her twin. Finally the process was complete, and Amelia could only look on in horror as she watched her sister become truly damned for eternity.

Her head was fuzzy, and the voices around her merged into one as she felt herself succumb to unconsciousness just as Constance had done throughout the day. For a moment she knew the terrible feeling of helplessness that her deputy must have felt so many times throughout the past two days before she surrendered completely to the oncoming swoon.

* * *

**Note2: **To be continued...

*Kimmeth waves her pointy 'review' stick and prays she is forgiven for the last chapter's cliffie.*

*Kimmeth then realises she has left it on another cliffie...*

*Facepalm.*


	25. Chapter 25

**Note: **Warning - this is where the chapter earns itself its M rating, if it had not already done so with all the finger burning. Keep that in mind but enjoy nonetheless, the action is coming thick and fast!

* * *

**Inferno**

**Twenty-Five**

"Miss Cackle!"

Mildred was torn as she saw her headmistress faint, her eyes moving from the fallen teacher to the gathered adult magicians, and from them to Maud, next to her, holding her arm in an iron grip. Her friend had pulled her back into the safety of the group of girls when Miss Hardbroom had collapsed those few minutes previously, and at that time Mildred had been too shell-shocked to protest. Now, she felt she had a better hold on herself and she tried to push forward, pulling Maud with her.

"Millie please," pleaded Maud. "Stay back here with us, safety in numbers."

"I have to agree with Maud," said Enid on her other side. "The Chief Wizard's helping her Mil, there's nothing we can do, face it. We're safer staying here."

"We have to do something!" Mildred snapped. "We can't just stand here like lemons! What happens when we don't have Miss Cackle or Miss Hardbroom? They're our best chance!"

"I'm with Mildred." Mildred turned to see Ethel stepping forward beside Enid. "We can't stand here and expect the adults to fight our battles for us."

Mildred could see the pained look in Maud's face before her friend gave in with a sigh.

"Come on then," she said. "But we'll all go." She muttered something under her breath, and Mildred caught a repetition of her earlier words 'safety in numbers'. She, Maud, Mildred and Ethel set out to trip the short journey across the perilous ice to see for themselves their headmistress's wellbeing. By the time they reached Miss Cackle she had begun to recover, the Chief Wizard helping her into a sitting position.

"Miss Cackle, are you alright?" Mildred asked, just as Miss Bat skidded to a stop and toppled forwards onto the ice next to them, before getting to her feet and brushing herself down.

"Amelia!" she cried. "What's happening? What are we going to do now? We're all going to die, aren't we?" The chanting teacher was heading for another bout of hysterics, thought Mildred, and if they weren't careful then they would have a third faint on their hands in the space of ten minutes. She cast a glance over at Miss Hardbroom, who was still leaning against Della for support, looking over at Miss Cackle with a near-sisterly concern. Mildred's gaze returned to her headmistress, who, whilst sickly pale, had regained consciousness quickly, and was looking at Miss Bat with an expression that was part worry and part exasperation.

"Miss Bat... Miss Bat!"

Miss Drill moved for the first time since they had stepped out onto the ice field, coming forward to the group gathered around the headmistress and gently pulling Miss Bat back, taking her shoulders in a firm but friendly hold and leading her away, murmuring soothing reassurances to try and get the petite singing-mistress to calm down.

"Are you going to be ok Miss Cackle?" asked Maud quietly. Miss Cackle nodded and carefully lifted herself off the ground using the Chief Wizard for support.

"I think I will be fine, Mildred, it was just the shock of seeing Agatha... of seeing her..." Miss Cackle shook her head, unable to bring herself to finish her sentence. "She may have been evil to the core, she may have sold her soul, but she was still my sister. Her screams..."

Having ascertained that the headmistress was going to be alright, Mildred decided that perhaps it would be best to leave her to grieve the loss of her family member in peace, and Maud's actions, tugging at her arm to guide her back to the rest of the students, mirrored her train of thought. They moved away, back towards the comparatively safe haven in the shadow of the castle walls, passing Miss Drill and Miss Bat. The latter was regaling the former with a story from her childhood, something completely unrelated to their current situation. She was so absorbed in telling the tale that she didn't notice the half-smile that the PE teacher gave to the girls over the top of her head. If getting her to think about something mundane and far-removed from their present reality was what it took to get Miss Bat away from the verge of palpitations then Miss Drill was prepared to listen to the far-fetched and slightly incredible yarn.

"It really is most interesting," said a too-familiar voice, and the girls stopped, turning back. In the confusion that Agatha's damnation and Miss Cackle's faint had engendered, Mildred had completely forgotten about the presence of the Devil, even though they were still undeniably in the confines of the ninth circle. She watched him as he moved from the shadows and walked with measured steps onto the plain, moving around the small groups with a genuinely fascinated expression. "Most interesting indeed."

Mildred shuddered as he passed by her, and she thought for an awful moment that he was going to harass Miss Hardbroom into unconsciousness again, but he bypassed them all to come to a stop in the centre of the section of the ice that they occupied, surrounded on three sides by magicians and non-magicians of varying ability and inherent power.

"I have never seen such a closely bonded group of people. The ties that bind you together are unlike any I have ever seen. So stoic even in the face of death, staring at the jaws of eternal damnation. It is usually in these circumstances that even the most strongly founded and purest of friendships crumble leaving every man for himself and every magician standing alone against a common foe. But here you are, in the very depths of your despair, and you are solid till the end. A most uncommon bond, one that not even I can touch."

He smiled cruelly.

"I may just have to keep you here a little longer for _observation_."

Mildred thought of the souls beneath the ice, Agatha the latest among their number, all kept there because the Devil found the evils that they had committed in life to be 'interesting' and warrant an eternity's worth of further research. He had virtually said as much when he had forced Agatha down to join them. Now they were to become the newest additions to his collection, though they had committed no crime.

"You said they would be safe!" The voice was akin to the hiss of an angry cat, and almost unrecognisable until Mildred saw its owner push forward a few paces. Miss Hardbroom broke away from Della and made her way uneasily towards the Devil, stopping well short of him and still within the reach of her companions. "You promised me that the girls would be safe!"

Mildred gasped inwardly, remembering the inaudible words that he had whispered to the teacher before she had fainted. Had he really been guaranteeing their freedom? Surely his most recent actions with Agatha showed that one could never trust the Devil.

"And so they will be," said the Devil, matter-of-factly. "You'll think of something to get you out of this latest scrape, you always do. You came so far in such a short space of time in these past two days, I really would be most disappointed if you couldn't think of some miraculous escape plan in time."

"Beast! Liar!" Miss Hardbroom snarled, throwing her hands forward and unleashing an unsullied stream of magic, red sparks shooting wildly from her fingertips, the raw power bubbling through her, almost palpable in the air. The display of power – the combined force of Della's channelled magic with the deputy head's inherent skill and strength – was something almost mesmerising to watch, a stunning visual display, but the Devil was not so appreciative. He snarled, his face contorting into something near-inhuman, for the first time looking truly demonic and otherworldly, and as the bolt could hit him, he melted into ink just as Agatha had done, leaving no trace behind. Miss Hardbroom stopped, panting slightly, and leaned over to catch her breath.

Mildred looked around wildly for the Devil, wondering where he could be, but she could see no sign of him. She peered frantically into all of the many shadows that the icescape afforded but she could see nothing. She didn't trust her eyes, she hadn't done for a while, and an inner sense was telling her that he was still there, somewhere, that the danger was not over and had just become even more frighteningly real.

"Is it over?" asked Della quietly. "Is that it? Our combined power killed him?"

Miss Hardbroom shook her head as she straightened up once more and pushed her still-loose hair out of her face.

"No," she said grimly, voicing Mildred's exact thoughts. "No, he's still here somewhere, he's got to be. It can't be that easy. Life is never that easy."

"Of course it isn't," said the Devil's voice, but there was still no sign of any physical form. "No no, I am still perfectly intact. Agatha, rest her soul, was not the only illusionist among us. She had to learn the talent from someone, after all. Oh no, I'm afraid that you have been duped again."

Mildred felt the unnatural icy breeze that had been blowing in the background throughout their time in the ninth circle suddenly pick up, lifting the ends of her plaits and buffeting her around the face with them. She grabbed the bunches of hair before they injured her and looked towards the far horizon, where the very atmosphere itself seemed to be shimmering with the same invisible force that had surrounded Miss Hardbroom's fingers when that illusion had been revealed.

"The person that you saw and whom you all so naturally assumed was the Devil was not actually my true form, just as this is not my true voice. It was merely a physical manifestation of my consciousness, an image I created from my long-imprisoned mind."

Mildred could hear a roaring under the mellow tones of the disembodied voice, and she was certain that it was a sound separate from the whistling wind.

"It was a very effective image, I might add, no regular hologram can catch swooning damsels in distress." The voice sighed, and the shimmer began to melt away, the illusion starting to reveal itself. They were about to come face to face with the true Devil, and Mildred had a vision, a vivid, nightmarish vision of the Devil from legend, horned and tattooed and terrifying. "Alas, despite my desire to continue to fool you, your magic has forced my hand somewhat, and the time has come for you to meet the true me."

The shimmer fell, and several of the pupils screamed. Mildred did not; she could not, her breath was catching in her throat. Before her was the image of her vision, but stronger tenfold.

The beast was horned, each curling antler as long as the castle was tall, the appendages protruding from a black, snarling head, raw flesh inscribed with blood red markings in a language incomprehensible to her. The roaring was coming from its mouth, a gaping orifice filled with jagged fangs. There was no skin, Mildred realised with a jolting stomach, and she could see the way the muscles stretched over the bones, see every line and sinew, all pitch black and carved with the same scarlet markings. The creature had wings, tattered and torn sails of muscle bursting from its back and flapping wildly in beat with its clawed arms as it struggled to free itself from the ice where it was imprisoned from the waist down. The violent movement, Mildred now knew, was the cause of the veritable hurricane battering the group.

The piercing red eyes were the only thing that this awful apparition shared with its human manifestation, a manifestation which flickered briefly in front of the beast, smiling cruelly and allowing the gathered group to see the scant similarities between the two.

"Here we are," said the voice, and Mildred strained to hear it above the terrible sounds of the beast. "May I have the pleasure of introducing you to... myself? I think I shall leave you all to get acquainted. After all, you only have an eternity in which to get to know each other."

The image melted into ink for good, and the gathered party stared in horror-struck awe at the true shape of the Devil.

"Satan," Maud whispered beside Mildred. "In Dante's Inferno, he is imprisoned in the centre of hell for the ultimate sin, his flapping wings creating the wind that freezes over the ninth circle."

Mildred could not reply, she could only gaze in mute terror at the awful vision.

When Miss Bat gave a whimpered and barely audible moan of 'we're all going to die', no-one attempted to contradict her.

* * *

**Note2: TO BE CONTINUED**

(Erm, I should have pointed this out earlier I guess, but this story has no religious undertones - it's linked solely with other pieces of literature, not any semblance of my religious views.)

Coming up on Inferno: The power of three, the power of the Devil and yet another ruddy cliffhanger...

*Kimmeth gives puppy dog eyes... please review in spite of the above...*

But on a real note people, there are but two chapters and an epilogue left. We are nearly at the end! *Sobs.*


	26. Chapter 26

**Note: **Erm, nothing to say other than remember my warning at the end of the last chapter. Enjoy!  


* * *

**Inferno**

**Twenty-Six**

It took Chief Wizard Egbert Hellibore a few seconds to compose himself in the wake of the latest terrible revelations. Nothing that had happened since they had descended onto the ice plain had managed to completely phase him: he had kept his head through the appearance of the 'Devil', through Constance fainting, through Agatha's demise, through Amelia's swoon. He had kept his head whilst Davina had lost hers, but now he had to give in and feel the confusion and fear along with the rest of the collective.

"We're all going to die," he heard Davina say, and for a brief moment he could not contradict her. His first thought, as he looked into the awful scarlet eyes of the beast that was thrashing about in front of him was that he was doomed. At least he had made peace with his daughter before the end came. He looked towards Della, and in that moment, with her hair blowing around her face in the unnatural wind and her chin lifted towards its source with a mixture of both fear and defiance, she looked so much like Isabella that the resemblance made him double-take. It was almost as if the witch herself was there in the ninth circle with them, and it was then that he knew he had to carry on, he had to find a way, he had to save them even if it was the last thing he did. When Isabella died, he had made a promise to her, a promise to watch over their daughter and keep her safe. He could not and would not fail the last request of the woman he loved. The thought that he might never see her face reflected in their daughter's again, even though he had lasted twenty-three long years without it, was unbearable.

But what could he do? How were they supposed to escape this terrible ice prison under the awesome red gaze of the beast, its devilish eyes boring into their souls, chilling them to the bone? The ancient books had spoken of the power of the Liaison being strong enough to defeat the Devil, but they had made no mention of the battlefield upon which such a conflict had taken place, and they had made no mention of the Liaison having strength enough to transport a castle and its inhabitants to its rightful position on the surface of the living world. One thing was for certain, and that was that Egbert had no intention of fighting, nor having anyone else fight, this beast. Immobile as it was within the ice, Egbert didn't think that it could do any particular damage to them at this distance except with the gusts being generated by its wings, and so the most pressing question was how to get out of their dreadful limbo. Egbert looked upwards, half-expecting to see a far-distant hole in the vast darkness where stars could be seen, providing some hope that they could simply climb out of this hell if possible. Presently the freezing wind increased in its ferocity, causing all the staff and students to huddle together in the shelter of the castle walls. The necessary movement seemed to bring everyone to their senses, and as was to be expected, it was Constance, business-like as ever, who spoke first.

"We need to get out of here," she said, a simple and obvious statement, but an irrefutable one. "The question is how." The deputy head turned to Maud. "Didn't you say something about a map?"

"Well, sort of." Maud looked uncomfortable. "There are two ways out of hell, from what I've read. We're in the ninth circle, the deepest part, so one option is to climb back out past all the other circles until we reach the surface."

Amelia sighed. This particular option was not a very favourable one in anyone's eyes. If the sheer scale of the icescape was anything to work on, then they would be travelling for months to reach the edge of hell, and it would be a treacherous journey past many more malevolent demons, perhaps not as dangerous as the Devil himself or his accomplices, but certainly vicious enough to pose a threat.

"The other option... well, the way that Dante escaped at least, was through a crack in the ice, climbing down Satan's leg."

Egbert looked over at the beast, not particularly looking forward to clambering down one of its trapped legs but finding this option infinitely more agreeable than the first. Something struck him though, and his heart, which had been lifting by miniscule degrees ever since Maud had started talking in slightly positive terms about a possible way out of their desperate plight, plummeted like a stone.

"There are no cracks," he said quietly.

"Pardon?" Constance looked incredulous for a brief second before looking for herself, but Egbert knew she wouldn't find anything. The ice, for as far as they could see, was perfectly smooth like a frozen lake, no sign of any possible cracks anywhere.

"And even if we could escape that way," Amelia began, her tone melancholy, "what would we do about the castle?"

Egbert cast a glance up at the formidable walls that were towering above them. Using either of Maud's routes, whilst they might be able to save themselves, would not save the school building itself.

"Della?" Mildred's inquisitive voice jerked Egbert back to ground level. His daughter was crouching on the ground, rummaging through her handbag. Presently she pulled out a small, dusty book and flipped it open, scanning through the pages until she found the one she wanted.

"The Power of Three," she murmured to herself. "The Power of Three. Three related magicians using all their combined power to perform magnificent feats in times of great need."

Egbert leaned over to try and look inside the book but she snapped it shut before he could decipher any of the tiny script and shoved it quickly back into her bag. Something in the nervousness of her movement suggested to Egbert that there was something that Della was keeping from them.

"The Power of Three can do just about anything," she continued, speaking aloud to the rest of the group before standing again and looking pointedly to first Constance, and then her father. Egbert looked from his daughter to the witch who had agreed to take on the role of her mother-figure should this very situation arise. Della had assured him that even though there was no blood relation between them, the magic would work just as well. Egbert had just accepted her words, not understanding the deep magical theory behind it, tied in as it was with non-magicians' theories of paganism and white witches. "We should be able to create enough of an inherent magic force to sweep the castle and everyone else back to where it belongs, Wizard of Oz style."

"They do say that there's no place like home," remarked Imogen dryly. She looked at the three most powerful magicians in the company. "So how does it work, this Power of Three?"

"Well, I'm not altogether sure," admitted Della, shouting to make herself heard above a particularly loud roar from the beast in the background to their conference. "But I have an idea."

Constance pulled her hair back from her face.

"Well I say we should try it," she said with a sigh. "I can see no other alternative."

"Be careful!" squealed Davina.

"Yes," said Amelia quietly. "This is our only hope. Please, be careful," she echoed.

Constance nodded. After a brief moment's contemplation, Della did the same. Egbert paused for a few seconds longer. He had no doubt that the magic would be enough to save the castle and the others, but what about themselves? He nodded as well. If Della and Constance were prepared to take that risk and make that sacrifice then so was he. The three of them moved away from the group, a little towards the beast, taking the strength of the veritable hurricane head on.

"Della," Egbert called to her, suddenly feeling the need to say something urgently before it was perhaps too late. She turned. "Can I speak to you? Just for a moment."

She came over to him and turned her head on one side, listening.

"Della, I just want you to know... well, you already know, but I just wanted to say it again: No matter what happens, I love you."

Della nodded.

"Thank you," she said, and Egbert could detect a tremble in her voice. "I wish I had something meaningful to say in return. I can't call you dad. Marlon will always be my dad. But you are my father, and... well... thank you."

Egbert kissed the top of her head as she took his left hand, holding out her right for Constance to hold. Once the three of them were standing in a circle, Constance looked to Della.

"Now what do we do?" she asked.

"Just let your inherent magic fill you up," said Della. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, and as he relaxed slightly, Egbert could see a faint shimmer begin to surround them, almost like a force-field. He glanced over at the castle and the others gathered around it, worried when they were still visible through the haze that was beginning to block out the noise of the hurricane surrounding them with a sound of its own, the rush of raw, unchannelled magic.

"Are you sure this will work?" he asked.

"Oh yes," said Della nervously. "Oh yes, the Power of Three will definitely work to save the girls and the castle, that was what I was checking just now – it has been known to perform cross-dimensional shifts like this. It's just... there's something I didn't tell you about it."

"What?" asked Constance above the roar of the wind and the magic swirling around them.

"Well, with the Power of Three, erm, sometimes only two of the three survive. And, erm, generally it's the most powerful inherent magician that gives the sacrifice."

Egbert's blood ran cold, and he could tell from Constance's expression that her veins had suddenly frozen as well. His daughter, the almost all-powerful Liaison, was prepared to risk sacrificing herself to save a group of people who, up until forty-eight short hours ago, she had never even met.

"Della," he began.

"It's too late now," she said, a slight nervous laugh colouring her voice. "We can't stop now." The field around them was complete by this point, and with a roar of pure, raw magic, Egbert saw, through the shimmer, the castle disappear. He felt Della let go of his hand and heard Constance's choked gasp, turning to see his daughter completely focussed on where the castle had been, her arms outstretched, the same stream of inherent magic flowing from her palms.

"It's safe," she whispered, her voice echoing in a strange double timbre. "The castle's safe. I can keep the shift open. Constance, go, just walk into the stream, you don't need to do anything else, the magic will take care of itself."

"Della..." Constance's face was pleading, her eyes so concerned for the young woman that she had effectively taken under her wing.

"Do it," said Della, and although her face was hidden by her hair, Egbert could tell she was crying, although through pain or emotion he couldn't fathom. "Please, just do it."

Constance placed a gentle hand on Della's shoulder and stepped into the stream of magic. As soon as she faded out of view, Egbert felt a change in the magical structure surrounding them. The force-field was beginning to close in, and it would envelop them both and transport them to safety if Della stopped streaming her own inherent magic.

"Della, sweetheart," he began, "it's alright, you can stop now, we're safe, it's going to be alright."

Della turned to him and his mouth fell open involuntarily at the sight of her eyes. They were bright and sparkling like moonstones, completely pupilless, tears flowing freely down her face.

"I... can't... stop..." she mouthed, her throat too choked and locked down to allow sound to pass. "My head... is... killing... me..." There was a slip in the raw magic as her eyelids fluttered. Egbert took hold of her wrist and found her pulse racing beyond anything he had felt before. Her face was a picture of anguish.

"Please... help... me..."

XXX

Mildred picked herself up off the ground, looking around at the rest of her classmates and teachers and finally up at the castle, there in the forest where it should be, its pale walls glowing in the moonlight. It had worked. They had survived. They had come through hell and they were back where they belonged, in the world of the living. Mildred gave a quick mental count of her comrades and grimaced on seeing just which three they were short. They had survived, but at what cost? She remembered the look that Della, the Chief Wizard and Miss Hardbroom had exchanged before the Power of Three had begun. They had all been so collected, so completely accepting of their possible fate.

Suddenly there was a blast of icy wind, and the atmosphere seemed to shimmer slightly before a familiar figure appeared in it, falling to the ground as it materialised fully just as Mildred herself had done.

"Della! Egbert!" Miss Hardbroom scrambled to her feet, staggering slightly. Mr Rowan-Webb caught her before she could fall but she batted him away, balancing herself once more and moving towards the place where the atmosphere was still shimmering, her hair blowing around her face wildly in the mixture of devilish hurricane and raw magic that was pushing through from the afterlife. Another image melted into view, and the gathered party immediately fell into silence. The final two members of their company had returned. Everyone was back from the ninth circle.

The Chief Wizard Egbert Hellibore was holding his lifeless daughter in his arms.

* * *

**Note2: ***Kimmeth hides.*

I WARNED you it would be a cliffie!

*Kimmie's hand comes out of her hiding place and waves at the review button.*


	27. Chapter 27

**Note: **You lucky, lucky people. Two chapters in one hit. Last chapter before the epilogue. Enjoy!

* * *

**Inferno**

**Twenty-Seven**

Constance looked down at the pale young woman cradled against the Chief Wizard's chest, barely noticing when the air behind them ceased to shimmer and the dimensional shift closed with a tangible thud of blessed finality. Della's eyes were closed, her face passive and more peaceful than Constance had seen it in the two days of their acquaintance; even when she had been asleep she had still worn a small, worried frown. Her hands were folded limply in her lap, her chocolate brown curls in a messy tangle over her shoulders. Egbert kept his head bowed, saying nothing as he slowly bent and laid Della on the ground, his shaking frame an indication enough of his grief. He sat back on his haunches, gently touching her thin cheek. Algernon came over and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, the rest of the castle's occupants gathering in a solemn circle around the fallen Liaison.

"What am I going to tell her mother?" whispered Egbert. "How do I tell her?"

Constance could not reply. This was beyond anything she had experienced in her entire life; although she had gone through her share of traumatic ordeals, the loss of a child was most certainly not one of them. It was almost as if she had lost a pupil, more than that, lost a friend, as she was certain that was what Della had become to her during their brief time together. She could not say anything, so she remained silent with the rest of the group, gazing down at Della.

Just then something made her double-take. The faintest of moonstone-coloured sparks were flickering at the tips of Della's fingers. Constance felt the Liaison's magic reawaken and connect with her for a brief moment before it was gone, like a candle had been snuffed out. It was a strange feeling, not that the magic had died as such, but that it had simply... disappeared. The sensation gave her hope, and she tentatively kneeled down and took Della's wrist, feeling a very faint pulse beneath her fingertips.

"Della?" she murmured. "Della, can you hear me?"

Egbert looked up at her, the expression in his welling eyes one of anger, accusing her of giving him false hope, but she ignored it, concentrating on the neutral face of the Liaison, willing her to come back to them, willing her weak heartbeat to pick up once more, willing her to open those grey-blue eyes.

"Please Della," she continued. "You've had your turn to faint. Please wake up for us. You're a Liaison. You're stronger than this. You can do it."

Reluctantly almost, Egbert took her other hand, whispering the same half-hearted encouragement. Constance felt a nudge beside her and looked up to see Ethel, Della's true blood relation, crouching on the floor, her hands enclosing over Constance's, clasping Della's limp one within her grip. Immediately, Constance felt a change. She still couldn't feel Della's magic, but there was something else instead. The younger woman's fingers, entwined with Constance's, tightened their grip almost imperceptibly. She looked to Egbert and Ethel, and the faint spark of hope in their faces told her that they had felt it too. The anticipation from the rest of the gathered crowd was heavy in the air, each individual silently pushing Della to pull herself through this trauma.

Della's eyes fluttered open, and she coughed meekly, giving the smallest of smiles on hearing the collective sigh of relief that the gathered party gave on seeing her conscious.

"I am never going to let anyone wearing a pointed hat anywhere near my shop ever again," she croaked.

"Oh, Della!"

Constance heard Davina's shrill squeal and moments later, the chanting teacher had cannonballed through the wall of pupils and thrown herself at her old friend, tears of joy streaming down her face as Egbert gently pushed his daughter into a sitting position.

"Steady Davina, steady," said Della, her rough voice showing that she too was crying uncontrollably as a result of her ordeal. "I feel like I've been hit by a..." She didn't finish the phrase, emotion completely overcoming her. As Davina finally released her from the bone-crushing hug and turned to Algernon for a shoulder to cry on, using the ends of his scarf to blow her runny nose, so Della found her own consolation in Egbert, latching onto him with a fistful of purple robes and letting all the trauma and terror of the past forty-eight hours catch up with her. All the times that she had cheated death, all the earth-shattering revelations; her reactions poured out of her in that one moment.

"Girls," said Amelia, relief warming her voice, "I think we should give Miss Spinder some privacy. I suggest we all return to the castle."

The girls assented without a word, all of them casting awed glances back over their shoulders as they moved back into the school, Amelia and Constance bringing up the rear with Algernon escorting the still-weeping Davina just a few paces ahead of them. Like the girls had done, Constance could not help but look back at their saviour before she was closed off from view by the shutting gates. Della and Egbert would join them in their own time.

"Amazing," Amelia kept muttering to herself as they made their way towards the staffroom. "I have never seen anything like it." She turned to Constance. "And I thought that you were one for miraculous recoveries." She shook her head. "So many near misses, it beggars belief." They continued in silence for a few moments, and when they stopped outside the staffroom door Amelia paused before opening it.

"I came so close to losing you on so many occasions throughout these past two days Constance, and I feel no shame in admitting that the thought of such an occurrence absolutely terrifies me."

Constance gave a small smile of gratitude, an expression so rarely seen by either her pupils or her colleagues. Truth be told, when she had seen Amelia faint with the death of Agatha, she too had felt her pulse rocket and the cold, metallic taste of fear in her mouth. Had she not still been recovering from her own moment of weakness, she would have been across the ice faster than one could say 'inferno'.

"I think-a we all need-a some hot-a _cioccolata_ after standing out there in the ice," grumbled Mrs Tapioca as she bustled past the staffroom on the way to the kitchens. Mr Blossom was following her with a small smile of amusement spreading over his features, which were showing sheer relief more than any other emotion.

"I agree Mrs Tapioca," said Amelia. "Perhaps we should serve it in the Hall."

The cook nodded briefly and hurried on to the dungeons, leaving Amelia and Constance hovering outside the staffroom.

"Shall we?" said Amelia, indicating further down the corridor towards the Great Hall, and Constance nodded her consent. It had been an extremely odd two days, and she didn't suppose that a few more hours of relaxed standards would do anyone any harm in the long run, although she made a mental note to remind both Amelia and the girls that it would be business as usual when the morning came. She raised a hand to her hair, meaning to put it up again, but Amelia caught the action and shook her head.

"Save yourself the effort of pulling it down again later," she said with a smile. "A few more minutes of frivolity won't damage your reputation forever, Constance."

Constance made to protest, but the twinkle in Amelia's eyes told her that any argument would be completely futile, and she grudgingly accepted this as a headmistress's order that could not be disobeyed. She sighed as she followed her superior through the corridors; there was something of more pressing importance that she needed to discuss with the headmistress.

The girls were milling about in small groups when the two teachers entered, Imogen, Davina and Algernon already with them, trying to create some semblance of order but almost immediately giving up. Having checked to make sure that everyone was accounted for and no-one was suffering from the hysterics, Constance pulled Amelia over to one side.

"What's the matter?" the headmistres asked her deputy, concerned.

"Della's magic," said Constance. "Back outside, before she woke up, I felt her magic leave me where I had been channelling it." She paused, not quite knowing how to phrase her next sentence. "Della's power is spent. She no longer has any inherent magic. In effect, she is no longer a Liaison."

"What?" gasped Amelia. "How?"

"I am not sure of the mechanics," said Constance, "but my theory is that she simply used it all up in performing the dimensional shift." She sighed. "That was all her, Amelia. She only needed Egbert's and my assistance to get the ball rolling, so to speak. I have honestly never seen a witch exude so much raw power before, even in the very height of unrestricted magical combat."

"It's no wonder that she fainted," breathed Amelia in awe. "But does this mean that she'll be affected by the Foster's again? The child of two magicians but with no magic?"

Constance shook her head, although she was not one-hundred per cent certain.

"Using up one's magic is a natural process. It has happened before, but usually to extremely old witches and wizards who have prolonged their lives by unnatural means and don't have enough magic to keep up with themselves."

"But what does it mean for Della?" asked Amelia.

"It means," said Constance quietly, "that she is an ordinary young woman with no magical potential at all, something that I am sure she will be extremely glad to hear."

Amelia nodded and both witches could hear the progression of footsteps towards the room, one tread heavy and the other the rhythmic snapping of heeled boots. Egbert and Della were on their way. As they entered, the girls broke into a spontaneous chorus of cheering and Della blushed bright scarlet, hiding behind her hands.

Constance looked at the young Liaison that she had come to regard as a friend fondly. Della had come into their lives like a whirlwind, and she had undoubtedly fulfilled her destiny as one of the world's most powerful magicians, even with all the obstacles that she'd had to overcome to get there. She deserved her applause, for it was most definitely she who had saved them all. Constance would be sad to see her leave, but she would also be relieved. This was not Della's world, she didn't belong with them at the castle, and Della knew it. The little worried crease between her brows that had not lifted at all throughout their time together told Constance that much. She knew that Della would be much happier and much more comfortable if she could go back to her bookshop and forget that the whole thing had ever happened, although their experiences would take a lot of forgetting. It would be far better for her to leave the magical world behind.

Presently Mrs Tapioca arrived, with Mr Blossom in tow carrying a steaming cauldron of hot chocolate. The idea of a warm, sugar-filled drink soon dominated the girls' minds and Della was spared any further embarrassment. The younger woman came over to Amelia and Constance as her father made a beeline for the hot chocolate queue.

"Can I speak to you?" she asked Constance, her red-rimmed but ultimately happy eyes looking at her earnestly. Constance nodded and they moved into a corner.

"Egbert is going to take me home 'the wizard way'," Della said. "I don't think I could face another broomstick trip, not after my first one." There was a pregnant pause whilst Della searched for where to begin. "I just wanted to say thank you. For everything, really. Taking on my magic, being part of the Three... Thank you. You've done so much for someone you'd never met."

"Della, you were prepared to die to save a school full of people you'd never met," protested Constance.

Della shrugged.

"That's not the point. The thing is, I can't handle this life. I want my old life back, nice, simple and uncomplicated. My little world in my bookshop with my mum and Nicky, reading every weird and wonderful book I can get my hands on, saving up for my Masters and Davina coming round for tea." She paused. "I'll even take the Foster's again if needs be. I don't regret this," she added hastily. "I never will. I just don't think I can cope with any more supernatural occurrences." She stopped, hanging her head as if she was ashamed.

"What's the matter then?" asked Constance, perturbed.

"You don't think that I'm giving up, do you? Just walking away like this? I mean, I'll never be able to cast spells or anything like that, my power is only useful when someone else uses it, but still... It feels cowardly, just wanting to give it up and walk away."

"Della, I don't think you're a coward," said Constance softly, amazed that a young woman who had the strength to come through all that she had could think of herself in such a way. "You didn't ask for any of this, you have every right to want your former life back." She paused, before deciding that it would be for the best to tell Della about her spent powers. As she explained the theory to the Liaison, Constance thought that she could see the worried lines in her face smooth out by degrees, till she was looking perfectly relaxed once more. With the removal of her magic, so a great burden had been removed from her shoulders.

"Thank you," she said again once Constance had finished speaking. "I won't forget this. It was an..._experience_." She gave a snort of laughter at the obvious understatement. They stayed in silence for a little while, watching the girls and wizards alike enjoying their drinks.

"No," she repeated quietly, more to herself than to Constance. "No, I won't forget this. I won't forget any of you."

Constance was quite sure that no-one in Cackle's would forget the dramatic events either, and she was certain that no-one, especially not herself, would forget Della Spinder.

* * *

**Note2: **I couldn't kill her. I wouldn't be able to write for crying if I did that.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the main body of the story. Now, onto the epilogue!


	28. Epilogue

**Note: **End of the line. Please enjoy the last chapter of **Inferno**.

I have included a reference for old time's sake. This one is from Terry Pratchett's Discworld book, 'Mort'.

* * *

**Inferno**

**Epilogue**

Mildred looked out of her window at the bright, cold November sunlight, watching it illuminate the familiar trees, the returning first, second and third years just appearing over the horizon. It was hard to imagine that just a few days ago she had been terrified that she might never see those trees again. To think that it had all started with a nightmare.

"Millie?"

She looked round to see Maud, Enid and Ethel hovering in her doorway. She cocked her head to invite them in and they perched on the end of her bed, Mildred remaining staring for a few moments before joining them.

"On the face of it, nothing's changed," she said, gesturing out of the window. "The girls coming back have no idea what's happened. And yet, something is irrevocably different. I just can't tell what."

"I've got a new family member," said Ethel. "I suppose that I'll have to tell Sybil. And the rest of my family for that matter." She paused. "Perhaps they'll stop trying to compare me to Aunt Isabella now, now that she's 'disgraced' the family."

The others laughed at the sarcasm in her voice.

"Well, all you can say is that if she hadn't done it, then we would all be doomed," said Enid. "It is quite a good incentive for extra-marital relations, isn't it? Your liaison may just save the world."

There was silence for a while.

"Do you think we'll ever see her again?" asked Maud. "Della I mean. She's got no magic anymore, so she won't be able to jump in and save the day if Agatha decides to strike again."

"Not that such an occurrence is particularly likely, now that Agatha is frozen in hell for all eternity to come," snorted Enid. "Now, if she could have saved a little bit of her awesome magic to use the next time Hecketty Broomhead decides to pay us a visit then honestly, I think HB would kiss her."

Mildred broke down into a fit of the giggles.

"I think I'll miss her though," said Enid seriously. "She was so ordinary. It was a breath of fresh air what with all the oddities in this place." Here she looked pointedly at Mildred.

"Hey!"

"And it takes someone with character to convince HB to leave her hair down for a day and a half." It had come as little surprise to the girls to see that the deputy head's customary hairstyle had returned almost as soon as Della had left them.

Presently they heard the sounds of girls alighting in the courtyard and Ethel took off at the run to meet Sybil, Mildred and the others following along to welcome the younger girls back at a more sedate pace. As she watched Sybil and Ethel dancing around in a tight embrace, Mildred reflected on Della's first broomstick ride and wondered how she'd got on with wizard teleportation. She remembered the last brief conversation that the Liaison had shared with her before she had stepped out of the castle gates.

"_Goodbye," Mildred said. _

"_Oh no," said Della. "I don't like goodbyes. I prefer 'au revoir'. Until we meet again."_

She had no doubt that she would meet Della again at some point in time, perhaps in slightly more relaxed circumstances than the ones they had met in before. After all, she knew where her bookshop was, and if she didn't wear her pointed hat when she went in, perhaps Della would let her have some chocolate fudge cake.

XXX

Della looked up from the counter as she heard the shop bell ring. She was still in the process of tidying up from the devastation wreaked by Agatha's appearance those few days previously, but it was not in her financial interests to leave the shop closed for longer than necessary. She gave a small smile as she saw who had entered.

"I thought I said that I wasn't going to allow anyone within a half-mile radius of my shop if they were wearing a pointed hat?" she said.

Egbert removed his headwear, returning her weak smile.

"Although technically," he said, holding it up for her inspection, "it is not pointed."

"That's alright then." Della carefully moved around the desk and leaned against it, holding an arm across her stomach. She was still sore from the events of the ninth circle, but more than anything she was glad to be alive. "What can I do for you?" she added. Whilst she would miss the personalities that she had met in Cackle's – Mildred and Constance and Ethel in particular – she did not regret her decision to remove herself from their world. She was sure that she would still see Davina at regular intervals – nothing could hold that witch down – and she could enquire after their welfare then, but she felt far safer in returning to her non-magical world where everything was finally going to go her way, no inexplicable Foster's incidents following her around, no legacies to fulfil, just pure and simple Della Spinder.

"I'm actually here on an errand," said Egbert. He seemed a little uncomfortable as he pulled a small cream envelope out of the folds of his robes. "This is for you. I've been holding onto it for fifteen years, but now I think is the right time to give it."

Della took the envelope and looked at the elegant cursive in black ink.

_Della Louisa Spinder_

"I'll leave you alone to read it," he said, replacing his hat on his head and pausing for a moment. "It was good to see you again Della."

"You too," she replied in earnest.

He nodded, neither of them quite liking the idea of saying goodbye. Eventually, he turned on his heel and left the shop. If the departure seemed brusque to the outsider, it was not so to Della. She understood, and she had a feeling that she would understand even better when she read the letter in her hands. She opened it, her fingers shaking slightly, and read the page inside.

_My darling Della_

_You have never met me, but I am your mother, your birth mother. My name is Isabella, and I have asked your father, Egbert, to give this letter to you when he feels the time is right. Perhaps you may never receive it, but that is a chance I have to take, and I trust Egbert to make the right decision._

_At the time of writing, you are seven years old, and I am wondering how old you will be when you read this. Seventeen? Twenty-seven?_

_You will never know me, and I am so very sorry for this. I know that this small scrap of paper is nothing compared to what a face-to-face apology would be, but this is the way it must be. _

_I am writing this to you to let you know that despite everything, I love you with all my heart, and I gave you up for this reason. The circumstances are long and complicated to explain, and by the time you read this they will be in the past and long-forgotten. Your father and I gave you up not to abandon you but to protect you from a great evil. We would have given anything to keep you safe with us, but the only thing we could give to keep you safe was, well, you. _

_I have kept an eye on you over the years, and I have enjoyed watching you grow up from afar, although I must admit that it has been heartbreaking at times. I am so truly sorry that I cannot be there anymore. _

_Della, I ask your forgiveness. I am so sorry that you will never know me as more than a stranger in your father's bookshop. I am so sorry that I could not raise you as my own. I am so glad that you have been brought up in a family who gave you as much love and care as Egbert and I wanted to. Please say you forgive me. _

_Remember that no matter what I will always love you, my daughter, my darling, my Della. _

_With all my heart_

_Isabella Evangeline Hallow_

Della stared at the letter for several minutes until she heard the shop door ring again. Hastily wiping away the tears that had begun to drip down her nose she looked up to greet her latest customer.

"Della?" Her mum looked at her with concern. Wordlessly, Della held out the letter for her to read. Caroline skimmed the page a couple of times before silently pulling her daughter into a hug.

Della took a deep breath, feeling safe in her mum's arms like she always had done, and began to tell the story of all that had occurred in the past three days.

XXX

It was with a grateful sigh that Amelia sank down into her favourite armchair, scarcely able to believe that only a day had passed since their terrible confrontation with Agatha and the Devil down in the ninth circle. Already it seemed so very far away. She looked around the room at each of the occupants. Davina stood at her music stand, humming to herself as she worked on her latest composition, occasionally wondering aloud what on earth she was going to say to Della the next time she called into her shop. She seemed to be back to her usual chipper self remarkably quickly, and Amelia was glad for that. Imogen and Algernon were playing poker with a battered set of cards that they had found down the back of the harmonium in the Great Hall; apparently their night of gambling with Della had turned Algernon into quite the card sharp. He had stayed on an extra day at the school to help Amelia with the overseeing of the returning pupils, but as it was, his assistance had not been required. Amelia finally looked to Constance, whose alarming efficiency had returned with the morning light and who had single-handedly organised contacting the three lower years and getting the girls back to the school with the minimum of fuss. Truly, Amelia did not know what she would do without her deputy, all the many times she came close to having to find out flashing through her mind and causing her to shiver involuntarily.

It would take a long time before any of the girls who had been present throughout the final battle and the fraught two days that had preceded it would be able to look back without thinking of the terrible fear and trauma that they had experienced, but she knew that, as the days went by, soon Cackle's would be back to the vague semblance of normality that they managed to maintain on a day-to-day basis. Amelia herself was still privately grieving the loss of her twin. True, she had done some terrible things, but, as she had thought to herself on seeing Ethel and her sister both before and after their brief separation, blood was thicker than water. Seeing the only remaining member of her family destroyed in such a way before her own eyes... Amelia pushed the thought to the back of her mind, preferring to deal with the related emotions in solitude. Agatha, she remembered, was not the only member of her family. The school was her family as well, and that was very much alive. She moved over to the table and sat down beside Imogen, catching Constance's eye as she did so. The deputy gave an exasperated sigh and a look that said 'if you must'. Amelia smiled.

"Deal me in, Imogen," she said. "I bet one of Mrs Cosie's teapots."

* * *

**Note2: **Well there we go. A month and a half in the writing and now complete. I hope you have enjoyed reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it, and I have enjoyed writing it a lot.

I would like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who has reviewed, put this on favourite and alert, pm'd me encouragement, emailed me thoughts and advice (here's looking at you NCD, ya had to get a mention somewhere darlin'!).

It's been an awesome monster to write, and I'm starting to sound like an Oscar speech now so I'll desist.

Until next time folks!


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